No Nonsense
by LibraMoon
Summary: America loved it when Canada was forceful. Featuring CanadaxFemAmerica! A series of one shots. Will include some smut. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

_**Smut implied CanAme! It is just plain ludicrous. Really sorry about that. I was going for some sort of serious plot, but it did not work out that way. Next one though, I promise. **_

_**2P!Canada is shamelessly based off of some pictures I saw on Google. No idea who to credit, but let it be known I am crediting them... so... uh... that is like the metaphorical head nod to the right people!**_

_**I own nothing. Rated M. **_

OoOoOo

Canada had always had some reservations about the way America acted.

The northern nation did like and tolerate his neighbor. He was often asked to corral her more... unusual behaviors, and she had always listened to him. Mostly. There were times he swore she was out to get him, but they were few and far between. Other times, he was certain that America had no idea how she seemed to the rest of the world.

Overly bright, bubbly, happy, and frankly_... nuts. _Not that she was insane. He knew. He had her tested by her own government, and his. No, America was just a little too mercurial in her nature.

However, she could be very sweet and caring. That being said, he'd never been forced to endure watching her flirt with a version of _him._ No, not Russia. Canada. Well, a version of Canada.

Because, America had to show him the device she'd been working on. It was supposed to help with cold fusion. Canada had thought it would be two coke cans stung together with plutonium or some other fatal thing

He'd been nearly startled out of his skin, when America actually started going over the mechanics of it all in great detail. Sometimes, he forgot that she was brilliant when she wanted to be. Or was focused enough.

He was still, rightly, nervous about the whole thing though.

She was busy prattling on about the chemical compounds, and chain reactions. However, Canada was distracted by staring at the gizmo. Roughly the size of a refrigerator, that sat innocently behind America's work bench in her garage.

A true, honest to goodness, machine! With real parts and equations on a nearby black board, that made sense! In theory, it should have worked. It had failed in actually creating fusion in that aspect, miserably. Yet it had not been a total dud.

It had, instead, after the smoke and what looked like purple lightening had cleared-while Canada ducked behind the counter as America laughed heartily-, allowed for a figure to emerge. Canada could sense it was him. Or... some aspect of him? Perhaps a doppelganger?

The other him was slightly taller. A cigarette in his mouth, as the long haired, but somehow more masculine version of Canada glanced around.

"What the fuck?" The low timber of the man caused America to shiver slightly. Her blue eyes, the ones Canada knew so well, were sparkling with mirth.

"Well," She said, looking over to Canada as Texas flashed from the rays of sunlight that managed to peek inside the garage. She laughed with giddy merriment or perhaps nervousness. "I think I might have had my math a bit off, dude."

Jaded violet eyes, glanced at them, as the man lowered his shades. Canada stared at a more hardened version of himself in near awe. He had a ponytail? That was actually, rather, nice. Though he wasn't crazy about the red coat. America was going to... oh no.

Canada blinked, his eyes wide, as he watched America go closer to the unknown nation. Well, not totally unknown. Canada knew it was himself. Sort of.

"Holy shit," The secondary Canada muttered with a slow and lazy smile etched on his face. "What do we have here?"

America glanced at him, wiping the traces of grease off her hands and onto her jeans.

"I'm America dude!" She said brightly with a wide smile and a loud laugh. "You're what? France?"

The jaded violet eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"No need to be insulting," he said, using two fingers to remove the cigarette from his mouth.

She grinned widely. "Maybe, but then again, I don't know you from Adam." Her more argumentative side poked through, as she looked at the newcomer. America placed her hands on her hips, and her blonde hair fell softly to the side as she tilted her head.

The gruffer Canada blinked, and then returned her grin with one of his own. "That so?"

America paused, something flittered across her eyes. Canada had a sinking feeling. She appraised the red-coated male nation.

"I can help you get to know me better," the secondary Canada offered with a tone that suggested it wasn't really an option to say 'no'.

"Hmm," America replied with a slight sparkle to her eyes. "I really don't need any help. I am the hero."

"Then it would be un-heroic to leave me here all by myself," the jaded violet eyes gleamed as the male nation leered at her. "I'm all lost and shit."

A smile tugged at her lips, and America nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess."

"Guess all you like girlie, but just do it over here." He said, as he pointed to the ground right in front of him.

Canada's mouth gaped open and he was terrified by the idea that America was going to fly into an explosive rage. No one told America what to do! Never! Everyone knew what she would do to them if they tried.

"Am-America," Canada said softly, hoping to stay her unusually strong onslaught from messing up his other self's face. "He... he did-didn't mean it."

She seemed not to hear him. That or someone had drugged America, because she casually moved to stand right in front of the more rugged Canada. Whose darker violet eyes glinted with arousal and he put his arm around her waist.

Canada's eyes nearly popped out of his head when America allowed it.

"You're cute." She said with a slight giggle.

"You ain't so bad yourself."

Something twisted in Canada's stomach. He felt sick and hot all at once. That feeling grew heavier. It coiled tightly until it was ready to snap. He couldn't believe it!

He felt _angry_! A bit of jealousy laced the anger as he watched his counterpart brush back a lock of America's hair. Canada's hands shook as they clenched into fists. He was going to put a stop to this. It was totally wrong! She couldn't be letting that guy put his hands all over her. Or being happy about it.

America shouldn't like a jerk like this... jerk!

"You two," Canada said, a little forcefully. Loud enough to actually be heard over the flirtations of the pair of nations who had thoroughly been ignoring him. "You two should stop... at _once_."

His other self, seemed content to dismiss anything he had to say, but America turned toward him. Her face was slightly flushed, and her blue eyes seemed locked onto his upset violet ones. She moved away from his counterpart, and stared at Canada as if she has never seen him before. A look of delight flashed across her face.

"Hey girlie," The secondary Canada said nearly gutturally. "Where are you going? Our party was just getting started." He mused with a devilishly handsome smirk.

Canada felt his face grow hot at the idea that his other self was going to... going to... do something with America! How dare he.

However, America did not even react to the jaded Canada's words. She was too busy watching her lifelong neighbor with undisguised interest.

"What did you say?" The star-spangled nation questioned with a slightly breathy note to her voice.

"I told you to stop." Canada repeated again, his tone not nearly as commanding as his counterpart. His lighter lavender orbs locked with blue.

Every inch of America seemed to buzz with some hidden excitement. Her gaze widened and the blush on her cheeks deepened. She gave a deep and nearly dreamy sigh. The features he knew so well, after having known her for decades, were twisted in a soft sort of pleasure.

"You're telling me what to do?"

The question did not seem aggressive, nor displeased. If anything America's voice hinted at the possibility that she was excited by the idea.

Canada had no idea how to take that.

The blue of her eyes, nearly seemed to glimmer behind Texas. The longer Canada stared at her, the more she appeared to be nearly drunk on lust.

"Are you?" She asked again, swaying toward him slightly, "Telling me what to do?"

Canada gathered up his strength, and the gentle male nation nodded firmly.

"It is for the best." He said, trying desperately to keep his voice from cracking.

America bit her lower lip, and her flushed cheeks made her seem like the incarnate of innocent desire. Canada thought he might have a heart attack at the sight. She was his neighbor! He'd only had those thoughts when they were... a little younger. When he'd show up at the border and she was always waiting, a secretive smile on her face.

He'd wondered if she ever got that strange fluttering in her stomach too. But that was silly, and he couldn't feel that way about her. She was his ally.

And, it was _America_! She'd never thought of him as anything but a trading partner.

He had convinced himself of this, but as her blue eyes refused to look away from his lavender ones, something about the air around her nearly smoldered with longing.

Canada swallowed quickly. His hands trembled as he held back from sputtering apologies.

His other self sensed that something wasn't quite right. The quirky blonde that was all over him just a minute ago, seemed to forget he even existed. That irritated the secondary Canada. Especially since this version of America wasn't annoying the ever living fuck out of him. He wasn't just going to hand her over to some little lamb of a nation.

"What the fuck girlie?" he grumbled with narrowed eyes, "Get back here."

He reached for her, but America reacted by grabbing the hand that touched her, and twisting his wrist. The pain exploded in his arm, and the jaded Canada could only stare in mute shock over her strength.

"Hush," America said, not looking away from the gentler Canada. "I love it when he goes all bull moose on me."

Canada flushed to the roots of his hair, as America smiled at him. There was a predatory aspect to that normally cheerful smile. The glow of pleasure on her face made his heart race and he suddenly felt hot.

He had the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he'd misunderstood why America always wanted to spend time with him. The thought made him just a bit giddy. Not that Canada normally became _giddy_ over the idea of America wanting to...

Wait, what did America want to do to him?

Or... with him?

The sweet mannered nation flushed until his whole face was red.

"What the hell are you talking about?" His other self half-snarled, making the attempt to yank his hand back but it was unsuccessful. "I'm more bull moose than this guy could ever hope to be. Look at him, he's like a perfect little angel by comparison to me."

America's blue eyes narrowed, and she actually looked at the newcomer with fury dancing in her gaze.

"Yeah," she said slowly, "it's time for you to go 'bye-bye' now."

The Jaded Canada could only gape as she flicked the switch on her machine and the purple lightening started again. She unceremoniously chucked him back through the opening from whence he came. He disappeared in a flurry of smoke, curses, and America's satisfied laughter.

Canada could only gulp as she practically sashayed toward him. The look in her eyes promised a world of carnal delight. The lingering scent of chemicals mixed with her perfume and it made the moment seem much more _real_ to the male nation.

"America?" He questioned. His voice broke slightly at the end of her name.

"Yes darlin'?" The star-spangled nation replied with a cat-that-ate-cream grin.

"What," he began nervously, "what are you doing?"

The blonde female hummed lowly in her throat. "_Canada_," she said in a playful tone instead of answering directly, "have I ever told you that I love it when you get forceful?"

"But...but... I-"

Her arms twined around the back of his neck. Her face drew closer toward his, and he could feel the heat radiating off of her. America's lips brushed across his languidly. She pulled back, as she looked at him with darkened blue eyes.

"You know how we used to play ball together?" She asked with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

He recalled the numerous times she hit him with a ball. If that counted as them 'playing' together. The male nation nodded quickly, but unsurely.

"Y-yes?"

She moved to whisper in his ear.

"Well, today, you're hitting a home run."

Canada could only sputter as America pushed him back up against her work bench.

OoOoOo

A week later, a cheerful America all but bounced into the world meeting. She seemed to be glowing with happiness as she found her seat. Canada was talking with Russia, and he flushed as soon as he saw her. She gave him a flirtatious wink.

"I really can't Russia," the shy nation said with regret.

"Thursday is the only day that will work." The Slavic nation returned. "I have not other time."

Canada shook his head, his features turned nervous, but determined.

"I'll have to forgo the meeting then," he replied with his hands fidgeting, "or we'll need to postpone it for a few months."

That was Canada's determined voice.

Russia frowned.

A certain star-spangled nation giggled to herself. Canada was standing up to Russia? That was like an aphrodisiac. A tingling started between her legs, and she was not going to ignore it. Now that she and Canada had become far more than simply neighbors.

And, they had only received three or four noise complaints. She could live with those numbers. Plus, there was something just magnetic about Canada when he was telling her what to do. She had a bit of a kink with that.

"Come on dude!" She interrupted easily, ignoring the half-growl from Russia at her rudeness. The female nation stood, then nearly skipped over to Canada's chair.

America began dragging Canada away.

"America!" He shouted loudly, for him at least, as he was unable to break her hold.

"What?" She said coyly, "I told you, _I love it_ when you're forceful."

The other nations could only stare on in wonder, as America tugged Canada out into the hallway. Her laughter echoed, as did the surprised yelp of the male nation.

"America! Listen to me!" The northern nation demanded.

"Yeah, baby, talk to me like that," she all but purred back.

France promptly started clapping.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Okay, I...Fluff. *Hangs head* It's fluff. Drabble. **_

_**I own nothing. At all.**_

OoOoOo

Canada knew America.

He had always known her, for as nearly as long as he could recall. She was a nearly constant fixture in his life. For better or worse, she was always around. Ignoring when she tried to invade him, or when they had sided on opposite ends of the political spectrum... he knew her.

Canada was a patient, kind, and sometimes painfully shy country.

America was _not._

That is to say, he didn't mean to imply that she wasn't _kind._ America was actually pretty nice, depending on who she was talking to, and she always seemed to see him even when others pretended he wasn't around. Or when they forgot his name. It was always America, France, and Russia that reminded the other nations.

So, yes, he felt... a little confident that his relationship with America was solid.

However, in between the moments of having that confidence, the self-sabotaging side of him wondered if he could hold her attention. It was a side of himself that Canada did not enjoy very much. In fact, it would be apt to say that he despised it.

And yet, as his violet eyes took in the meeting around him, Canada was uncertain if that side of him wasn't correct.

America laughed easily with other nations. She smiled at the ones that couldn't stand her, and Canada was a little envious of that. He stuttered when he got nervous, and sometimes he had a hard time talking... even around America. Especially when she had the habit of leaning closer because he spoke so softly by comparison to her.

They'd been neighbors for forever, despite the initial mistrust and animosity. In fact, for a long time Canada was extremely Anti-American. In every respect. He still felt a little bad about painting the signs turning away her people and their trade. Canada had feared her an imperialist.

America's heartbroken face across the border of their lands as she turned away from him had filled him with a sense of victory... once.

It had taken until the 1900's for them to settle down and stop fighting each other socially, as well as politically. Sometimes, he could still feel the stirrings of dislike and mistrust from his people for hers.

Finally, one strange day in the Cold war, he and America had become lovers. Canada still reflected on that day with a vague sense of wonder as well as a feeling of 'how did that even happen?'

He blamed hot chocolate and his sympathetic ear for ladies. And, America was a lady who had gazed at him with those scared and slightly paranoid blue eyes as if he held all the answers.

His violet gaze moved back up to the room, noticing that she was making the rounds with the other countries. Canada's self-deprecating side reared its head again as America gently smiled at South Korea. The northern nation wasn't jealous, but he was worried.

No matter how it came about, he loved America now and she loved him. He knew because she told him often enough. In fact, she was the first to say it. When they had been covered by the discarded uniforms they wore on the rug of a room where they were supposed to have been holding strategy meetings, her eyes soft and her skin still slightly flushed. Her hands slowly stroked his chest, and her head had been pillowed by his shoulder.

The three words Canada would never forget for as long as he lived, were said with such quiet sincerity that it gave him pause.

It was a memory that he enjoyed every time he thought about it. Her blue eyes caught his for a moment, and the smile she sent him was far warmer than the ones she gave to others.

He smiled, softly and to himself mostly, as America continued to chat with South Korea and Sweden. The shy nation, watched America with his emotions simmering below the surface.

Yes, he knew America. So, when things go like this, when he felt so unsure and out of place he knew just what to do.

Slowly, Canada stood, blushing up a storm and trembling. Hardly anyone noticed, except for Russia who looked at him curiously. He could do this, even the embarrassment that came from needing this reassurance faded when America...

When she caught sight of him standing, Texas flashed as her head turned to look at Canada fully. A questioning look on her face.

Canada took a deep breath as he uncurled his hands from the fists that they were in. His nervously opened his arms. He knew it would disrupt the meeting. He knew he'd catch flack from Germany later, and that America would start yelling at some point at Germany for yelling at Canada.

However, that meant nothing to him. Because, he knew America and as strange as it sounded, she never let him down. Meaning that she never failed to make him feel better.

Like how he felt as if he were the most powerful nation on the whole of the Earth, when her blue eyes sparkled and her face flushed.

She was as red as he was, cheeks tinted from pleasure and a bit of shyness. A little known fact was that America could be shy. Canada loved when she was. Yet, in spite of it all, she ran into his arms.

America ran as if being next to him were essential to breathing.

Canada caught her easily, lifting her up as he twirled them around, ready to nearly pass out because he was sure everyone was staring, but America laughed and whispered the words Canada so desperately needed to hear.

"I love you," she said, meaning it.

They kissed, despite the sounds of irritation and some heckling from the other countries.

It didn't matter if she smiled and laughed with everyone else. It didn't matter anymore if other nations looked at her like Canada did.

Because, he _knew_ America. So well he thought his heart might burst with happiness.

And, she loved him.


	3. Chapter 3

_**CanAme Smut. Yes, I am sorry, this popped into my head, and I had to write it. Mentions of past MaleAmerica. **_

_**And, noting the quote at the beginning, to Canadians everywhere... we adore you! 3**_

_**I own nothing. At all.**_

OoOoOo

"We of the United States consider ourselves blessed. We have much to give thanks for. But the gift of providence we cherish most is that we were given as our neighbors on this wonderful continent the people and the nation of ** Canada**."  
_\- President Lyndon Johnson, Remarks at Expo '67, Montréal, May 25, 1967._

OoOoOo

"England is an ass."

Canada blinked, his violet eyes widened behind his glasses. He looked sharply to his left, to see America muttering under...

Wait.

"W-what happened to you?"

Familiar blue eyes blinked behind Texas. But America did not wear his customary wardrobe. In fact, America was nothing like his usual self. Because America was clearly no longer a 'he'. The more masculine features had been rounded out with a tell-tale softness. There was also the fact that America was in a skirt and wearing...

Lipstick?

"Eh," she said in higher pitched and feminine voice. "England has been experimenting with DNA recently. Triple strands, causing some worry amongst the people and such."

"But.. you're a woman." Canada pointed out, still clearly confused.

"Right, I'm getting there dude, give me a minute. Anyway, so England has been experimenting with DNA. He called me over to his house, wanting to show it off, and I figured 'Hey alright, I'll show him what I have been working on as well'," Her blue eyes spared him a glance as she began to talk in a more animated fashion.

It was then that Canada noticed parts of America were now considerably more... bouncy. Violet eyes were nearly transfixed at the way business shirt allowed him to see just a hint of what was below her clavicle. The tell-tale swell of her now more prominent feminine aspects had a baser part of his brain thoroughly engaged.

"So, I ended up at Iggy's place, right?"

"Hm," he replied, unaware he was even doing so.

"And, there are all these scientists. Which is fine and I was all like 'Cool, whatever'. Besides, I brought my own, because wwe have been working on these new flying cars. You know, like in 'Back to the Future'?"

"Hm."

"Anyway, so it's all this really expensive equipment's and prototypes, plus all of England's DNA weirdness. And-"

"Hm."

The female nation blinked, and glanced at Canada. His response was out of the norm for him. That was when she noticed where his eyes were. She placed her hand in front of her now bosom. Her lips quirked into a blatantly amused smile.

"Canada?"

He startled and looked up at her, his violet gaze was wide.

"Yes?"

"Were you staring at my chest?" Her words were calm, and still filled with humor, not anger.

He flushed to the roots of his hair and whipped his head away from her. Frantically he searched the room for some sort of escape.

"What? Of cour-course not! That would be unseemly."

Her grin turned to a full blown smile at his words. So, he had been staring at her. That was oddly... kinda cute.

"Right." America said nearly flippantly.

"You... you were saying?" Canada returned, choosing to focus only on the papers before him. Here he was, stuck in a meeting with eight nations, some of which had not arrived yet, and he was next to a gender changed America. There was no polite conversation he could think of for this! The quiet and reserved nation started to tremble in near panic.

"Yeah," America said slowly, appraising her neighbor, "as I was saying. There I was with all this hi-tech stuff, and Iggy's all like 'Don't touch that you git'."

"So, you touched it?" The male nation asked, daring to risk a glace at America who was still smiling and had now began to laugh quietly. Canada knew what her answer was going to be before she even said it.

"Yeah. Yeah, I totally touched it." America admitted, clearly unashamed by her new appearance.

OoOoOo

It was weird.

Hanging out with America now. Not that, Canada really minded all that much. It was only that he wasn't sure how to look at her without staring. Not, in a rude way, but rather in a completely flummoxed way. It had been months now, and England had been telling them that they were only 'a month or two' away from figuring out a way to fix America.

Canada was worried it would be decades out now. Because, England was not precisely great on his timelines. At first the other nations had been surprised, horrified, and intrigued. Now, it was common place to see America in a business skirt, or wearing her hair with tasteful star pins. Canada had continued to sit with her at his normal place. Things continued on, with minimal fuss. Some nations had jokingly congratulated England on his 'daughter'. Which was met with threats of war. Also, there was the fact that the Eastern nations had begun to speak with America more. Politically speaking, it had not changed much. On a personal level though, they were more open to spending time with her.

And, Russia as well as South Korea were purposefully dropping pens off of the desks, because America would lean down to pick them up. Canada knew what they were doing, and he tried to intervene as much as possible to keep them from ogling his neighbor. He wasn't really all that worried about South Korea, that was likely just harmless. But who knew with Russia?

Canada and the larger nation were on very good terms, but the leering bothered Canada to no end. As well as did America's habit of standing nearly toe-to-toe with Russia, so some parts of her brushed against Russia's chest. Canada narrowed his eyes at his ally balefully. He had been forced to call for a tactical retreat. Translated for the rest of the world, that was getting America to come home with him.

Because Canada could keep her from being lured off into unmarked vans by other male nations. He knew that America could take care of herself, he knew that. However, some part of him felt his hackles rise at the thought of her being alone with some one else. America, irrespective of gender, still paid a large amount of attention to Canada. Including the meetings.

So, now that he had managed to get her to accompany him home for video games, beer, and scary movies, Canada relaxed slightly.

Only slightly, because there was a woman on his couch wearing an old shirt of his. Canada felt partly responsible, due to dragging America away from the meeting without her normal luggage. She had only been planning to stay the day, and return on the red-eye back to her land.

His violet gaze slide over to America as she took a swig from another drink. America could still drink her fair share, Canada had to admit. She felt him watching her, and glanced his way.

Their gazes held.

America tilted her head as Texas flashed a bit with the florescent light reflecting off her glasses.

"What's up?" She asked casually.

"Nothing," he mumbled, feeling strangely shy around her again.

"Hey Canada?"

"Yes?" He glanced away, and toward the T.V.

"Do you want to have sex?" She asked.

He was grateful he was not drinking anything, or else it would have been sprayed all over the room. He blinked, then started at her, blinked again, and finally gaped like a fish out of water.

Clearly, he must have misheard her.

"What?" He asked, nearly choking on nothing.

"Do you want to have sex?" America repeated, in a serious but hopeful tone. "With me?"

Canada gaped at her again, and waited for his brain to properly process what he heard, because there was no way he was hearing what he thought she said.

"Uh..." he replied eloquently, feeling very much out of place.

"Because I was thinking, you know," she said nearly confidentially, "that I have never done anything. Well, as a woman, and I think it would be really nice. Females are supposed to have stronger and longer orgasms."

Canada felt himself struggle for something to say, but could only utter a surprised squeak.

That must have passed as encouragement to America. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, for she had been growing it out since her 'accident'.

"And you and I are really close," she said blushing slightly, "not like _creepy_ close or anything. But a good kind of close, and I thought maybe you'd help-"

"Help?" he interrupted, just trying to spit something out of his nearly non-functioning mouth.

America winced slightly. "Well, not like _help_, but maybe you'd like to try...?" She raised her brows and looked at him expectantly.

"T-t-t-try?"

"Sex." The star-spangled nation said blatantly. "You'd like to try sex. With me. Tonight." She made a gesture to his stairs, which led to his bedroom. The same room they used to play video games in, but he moved the console down here after they first awkward time of seeing America on his bed.

Oh lord.

"Come on Canada," America coaxed gently. "We've been peaceful with each other for a really long time now. And, your the only nation I _trust._" She said with those killer blue eyes that looked at him with such a sense of vulnerable honesty that it cut Canada's defenses to the quick.

The quieter northern nation swallowed rapidly, trying to remember how to breathe. This was _America,_ after all. Much altered, he granted, but still his loud-mouthed and overly opinionated neighbor. The one that he fought tooth and nail with on several occasions, as well as side by side with during the world wars. Now he... no she, was asking him to...

His face flushed, and he felt overly hot. He tried to look anywhere but at her. It was strange, but then again it was America he was talking to, to think that this is what she wanted to do with her new body. And, part of him fluently cursed England in several languages. Mostly French, out of spite.

"Am-America I really-" He started to say, but his tongue felt thick and overly large as he attempted to move it around his mouth to form coherent speech.

"Please Canada?" She asked again, with a softer but excited tone in her words. "It's just one time and I promise absolutely _no_ political ramifications."

Canada made a strange sound, somewhere between a gulp and gurgle of disbelief. His violet eyes slowly met hers. America was staring straight at him, her undivided attention focused on him. It made him feel a little fuzzy inside, when she kept focus solely on him. Sure, he had his allies and many connections of influence, but it was her unyielding stare that made him feel as if there were butterflies hatching in his stomach.

"Uh... I.. America," he floundered, still red-faced and slightly dazed that she wanted to do _that_. With _him._ Oh my!

She moved off his couch with lithe grace and nearly raw sexual intent. Her hand was on his chest before he could blink. The gesture was soft and meant to allow him to think of more bodily contact.

"Is It such a hardship?" America whispered, while Canada could only stare at her lips with utter fascination. "To take me to your bed?"

Images flashed across his mind.

He swallowed at her words, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks with even more determination. A cold sweat started at his temples and he fought to keep the world in focus as he forgot to breathe once more.

"N-no! That's not what I'm saying-"

"Don't you find me attractive?" America asked, interrupting him again with a worried expression.

Canada felt terrible! He did not mean to imply that she wasn't pretty. She was gorgeous. But... but! But he didn't think this was really all that appropriate. His silence, while he internally panicked, was met by America with tears pooling in her blue eyes.

"Do I... do I disgust you?" Her words were hardly above a whisper, no trace of the seductive force from before could be found in her honest inklings of rejection.

"No!" The denial burst through his lips before he could stop it, and Canada wanted to cringe at how quickly he had replied.

He watched as America smiled shyly, the lingering traces of tears were still in her eyes, but she looked happy. "You know, I don't think I ever told ya, but... sometimes, you overwhelm me."

The butterflies in his stomach turned into locus that buzzed with such intensity, he was surprised America couldn't feel it.

"Overwhelm you?" He repeated, nearly in a stupor.

She nodded, forgoing words, to lean up toward him. He watched her eyes close. Softly, she pressed her lips to his, and Canada was lost to the gentle pressure of the intimate expression. His own lids slid closed, and he returned the gesture with his own. Her lips parted under his passionate but tender onslaught.

Kisses evolved to heated touches for skin that could not be quite satisfied. Canada was like a man starved, with a banquet set before him. America made breathy moans, arching into his touches. Her teeth nipped at his skin, in a playful suggestion of desire. It was a frenzied but unhurried exploration of their bodies together. Canada's fingers brushed against her ribs, and America laughed and tried to swat his hand away.

She was still ticklish, the back of his mind registered, as she had been when she had been a 'he' and they had been colonies. Such a long time ago, and part of him wondered if things would have been different in their shared history, if she had always been female. The better part of him thinks he would have treated America the same. However, the baser part of him knows deep in his bones, that he would have joined her in rebelling against England if America had been a woman. Because, he would have been honor bound to protect her, no matter how fool hardy she was.

So perhaps, it was for the best that America had been male to begin with.

He had little time to ponder the matter further as her had sought, and found, a much more intimate part of him. Her fingers wrapped around his semi-erect shaft. Canada flushed harder, thinking she might make a comment or crow about how she 'knew' he wanted her.

Perhaps it was the booze.

Or perhaps it was the fact they were so friendly with each other.

Most likely, it was that America cared deeply for him that made her blush and kiss him again without saying anything at all.

Her touch was akin to magic for Canada, as giving as it was demanding. There was a liveliness about her, when she was staring at him with desire burning brightly in her blue eyes. He groaned and panted as she moved her lips to his neck, and then his shoulder. Clothing was hurriedly discarded, and he had to help her out of his shirt, because she refused to release her hold on his sensitive region.

Canada nearly lost his mind, when America slipped to her knees before him.

"Am-America," he stuttered out, with a lust thickened voice. She didn't have to do that. If she didn't want to. Not, that he minded but-

Her lips around him, was the only answer he received. His hands clenched into fists as she worked her mouth on him. The wet, warm, cavern had his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. Canada was unaware of the French that tumbled from his lips. Words of praise, sensuality, and... love. Though he was unaware of his words, America was not. Her blue eyes fluttered closed against the sweetness of what he said.

It had been confusing for the nation, to go from a man to a woman. It had been hard and frankly, terrifying. Yet, almost from the beginning there had been Canada. By her side, watching over her, like he did upon occasion when they were colonies. America, in her male persona, had returned his nearly guarded affection with a promise to go to war if he were harmed. Something America still upheld to this day.

Yet, there was something freeing about being able to translate all the feelings America felt for her neighbor. Feelings that had evolved in these months to be something entirely different from what she had felt previously. America _wanted_ Canada. And, it was a relief to know that it was reciprocated.

Though, the booze likely helped a bit with the awkwardness.

Male or female, America was and would always be _America_. The outward appearance was just a way of self-identification, her people and Canada's were unaffected by the outward appearances of their nations.

She picked up a bit of speed, swirling her tongue around the shaft and put her sucking reflex to good use.

A mixture of French and English tumbled from his lips at her ministrations. America opened her eyes to take a quick look upward. She could see that Canada had thrown his head back and was lost in the sensation of her mouth on him. She released him, feeling the way he throbbed a bit in silent protest, and trailed kisses up his abdomen.

Canada's hands, stronger than America remembered, helped her up and nearly crushed her to him as he all but devoured her. His kisses trailed down her next to her chest, where he spent a bit of time lavishing her nipples with his tongue. She swallowed, nearly ready to cry out. The sensations were familiar but strange. The pleasure came from different areas now, and her body was not quite... it was not...

The last time she'd done this, she'd been a man and one did not normally spend as much focus ...

America grasped Canada's shoulders with a loud gasp of pleasured surprise as she felt his fingers moved across her clitoris. That's right, she had one of those now. America gave a keening sound of want as Canada took in her reaction and continued to rub the sensitive nub.

Well, the articles America had read did not lie. It was most certainly different for women, than it was for men. She could feel a slickness pool between her thighs, as Canada continued his pleasurable torture on her new body. She was panting and her legs trembled as she continued to clutch at him to keep her steady.

"Are you alright?" Canada asked, his sweet violet eyes were concerned for her.

America smiled at that, though it was a bit wan.

"Yeah, it's just," she broke off to moan and push against his fingers a bit more. "This is all new and...and..."

Canada nodded, understanding the worries that America did not voice. It would be a little strange, he supposed, to take in. Though he searched her facial expression to make certain she was not afraid of what was happening between them. To his relief, she did not look afraid at all. A little unsure, and more than a bit aroused, but not afraid.

America glanced at the floor, and swallowed quickly. They were really going to do this. She was both elated and hopeful that being female wasn't all weird. The thought of Canada penetrating her did more to turn her on, than to worry her. Which was good.

She let go of him, to kneel on the ground again. America held out her hand for Canada to follow.

"We should take the glasses off," he suggested, with his voice still slightly gruff.

"R-right," she said. This time it was America who stuttered as she reached up to remove Texas. She folded them carefully and handed them to Canada, who placed Texas and his own glasses on the coffee table. Which he then moved a bit out of the way. When he finished, he followed America to the floor. His body covered hers, and she parted her thighs for him without hesitation.

They kissed, as he stroked her body once more, his hands were rough and warm. America felt a fissure of pleasure spike within her once more. Unspoken, he requested permission from her to continue and America gave it with her breathy moans, and searing kisses. Canada lined himself up with her entrance, reaching between them to position himself correctly. America wiggled, and soon a bit of him was pressed inside the wet and snug entrance.

Violet eyes met blue, and held as he pushed forward.

America cried out and arched underneath him, not in pain but in surprise. It was an entirely different sensation, to be stretch and filled by someone. She had a new found respect for her past partners. Canada kissed her and pulled her further onto him with his hands around her waist as he continue to push forward. America wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

Both of them panted heavily as sensations washed over them.

Canada started to rock his hips against her, America started to moan. He knew when she started wiggling on him again, that she was ready for more. He turned his head to kiss her. He noticed that she was still hiding her face on his shoulder, and he kissed her hair instead. A gesture of affection and care. Soon their slow and gentle pace turned into nearly animalistic thrusting as America uncurled herself from Canada, and relaxed.

He watched the emotions and pleasure flicker across her face as he took her. Somewhere along the way, their hands entwine and he was holding them down under his own, as he thrust into her. America moved against him, nearly in perfect time, and he could feel the way her silken muscles clenched around him. He groaned with his won pleasure building. It was like nothing he had ever imagined.

If he were perfectly honest, he would have admitted that he only started imagining what it would be like between them for a short amount of time.

But, it was glorious in the fiery passion that was expressed in their touches, caresses, and the place where they joined together. It culminated in America crying out his name, as she tightened around him, and the whole of her seemed to vibrate with her climax. Her blue eyes never looked away from his as he watched her shatter beneath him. Canada had never seen a more arousing sight.

It was not long until he reached his own pinnacle, and went hurtling over the edge, pulling America closer to him.

Breathless, and feeling as if his legs were made of jelly, Canada withdrew. He rolled to the side and they both stared at his ceiling, panting.

"That was...," America paused to search for the right word. "Amazing."

Canada flushed, and laughed softly.

"Thank you."

"No, thank you," she returned playfully. "I might have to come to Canada more often."

She smiled, and then covered her mouth as she yawned. Clearly she was as spent as he was. Canada reached for a blanket off the couch, too caught up to want to move.

"You and I make a powerful couple," he half-joked.

"Couple? I like that," America said honestly.

"Me too," Canada admitted quietly.

"We should get together."

He stilled as she spread the blanket over them. He had just gathered America to his side. Her blue eyes seemed to glitter up at him. He silently wondered how she was able to do that.

"Together?" He questioned softly, the whole weight of everything between them was placed in that single vulnerable question.

Not even the space of a heart beat was able to pass before she answered him.

"Always," America reassured him with a sleepy expression. Her simple affirmation made Canada feel such a magnitude of deep affection, that no words could possibly due it justice.

He fell asleep with America nestled in his arms, still ten feet away from the stairs, on the floor.

When they woke the next morning, Canada coaxed America to miss her flight and spend the day with him. Though, in all fairness, they made it up the stairs, but never far from the bedroom.

OoOoOo

England had finally managed to figure out how to change America back to her former self.

He had called Canada, intent on sharing the good news. What the island nation had not anticipated was that Canada would show up to the laboratory where America's gender reversal would take place, and smash it to smithereens.

Everything. From the glass vials, to the computers, and even America's prototype. How was he supposed to explain that to the star-spangled nation?

It was so uncharacteristic of Canada, that England could only watch in mute fascination as the mild-mannered nation hurled machinery around as if they were leaves in the fall.

Violet eyes glanced at England when the wreckage was finished.

"We don't need anymore research on this."

"That was millions of Euros worth of Equipment," England pointed out still in a slight stupor.

"Oh," Canada replied, looking around, "happens sometimes! See you at the next meeting, eh?" The Northern nation cheerfully smiled and waved his farewells to England.

The island nation could only glance at the destruction with a quirked brow and his body nearly radiating civilized disapproval.

"And, to think," he commented to himself, "all this time, I thought _America_ was the overly romantic one."

No one was there to witness his knowing smile, and the bit of pride that could have been glimpsed in his green eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_**CanAme Omegaverse. Per request. I wasn't sure if Canada was supposed to be Alpha or Omega...**_

_**Rated M. I own nothing. **_

_**OoOoOo**_

Matthew knew he needed to talk with her, and soon. Because, frankly, he was starting to feel creepy.

Almost like he was stalking the Omega.

The Alpha had taken notice of her over a month ago. He insisted on coming back at the same time every day since the first day that he saw the blonde haired woman with glasses and a the most wonderful blue eyes he'd ever seen.

This morning was no different. Perhaps a bit colder, but that was expected with all the recent moisture and rainstorms at night. He had to say, it felt rather warm to him. He spotted her, in line to get coffee at the place down the street from his apartment. However, she was wearing a peach colored scarf around her neck, and his gaze was distracted by the bright burst of color.

Matthew could remember it all rather clearly, the very first time he saw her, mostly because he nearly tripped over someone else's cane when he tried to catch a better idea of her orientation. It was harder than it seemed over the acidic scent of coffee and the rich sweetness of warmed milk.

He'd received a few nasty glares, and what he was certain was an elderly fart of contempt in his general direction. It certainly did nothing to improve his admittedly rough morning, but the rather loud laugh of the blonde haired woman, had his violet orbs honing in on her once more. That's when he'd seen her grin at the Beta behind the counter, and some part of his chest contracted tightly with something far more primal than simple _want. _

The blonde male, with glasses of his own, adjusted them nervously. Today was the day he was going to talk to her, because some part of him couldn't shake the idea that she was an ideal mate.

Perfect, even. For someone whom he had never actually met. In person. He'd done it loads of times in his head. Most of his day dreams involved suavely charming her with intelligent conversation and witty report.

The only tiny problem was that he was nearly painfully shy.

Contrary to popular belief, Matthew was an A_lpha_ who'd come over from Alberta, Canada last summer. He was studying to be an ophthalmologist. Something hehad a sincere passion for since one of his childhood friends went blind to an unfortunate genetic condition.

He straightened his posture, and tried to exude confidence from every possible angle. Another Alpha noticed his puffed out chest, and quickly hid a grin. Perhaps he should dial it back a bit?

No. He needed to have this little running start, so to speak.

He clenched his fists, reminding himself that he was an Alpha and he could talk to a single... really pretty... Omega. He really could. So he didn't even pretend to be interested in ordering anything, after he saw her leaving with her steaming cup of what smelled to be dark roast coffee. He slipped out of line, as she moved past him, following after her nearly instinctually.

A few other patrons in line nodded a 'good luck' sort of gesture.

He might... need it.

He was nearly on her heels as she exited the shop. His brain told his mouth what to say, some incredibly thoughtful remark about her choice of beverage, but his heart seemed to be nearly ready to beat out of his chest. Matthew understood that he should not act this way around an Omega upon meeting them. However, his mouth opened and-

"You have really nice eyes," he blurted out, keeping his gaze focused on the Omega in front of him.

She stilled, and looked around, as he cleared his throat and tired to give off the scent of masculine Alpha to make a good impression.

The blonde Omega turned around, and she spotted him instantly. Her gaze raked over him. Matthew stood tall and unflinching under her brief stare.

Her brows furrowed, but in contrast to that, an amused smirk painted her lips. There was a vague look of disappointed disbelief about her features as well as her scent. The Alpha inside of Matthew wanted to take control of the situation and make the woman understand that he was stronger than her, so a good biological prospect. She should be excited that he was even speaking to her, because he was about half ready to offer courtship right then and there. He gave a smile, meant to be flirtatious. So far...

He was failing. Miserably.

"Really? That's what you're going to go with?" She asked, and her voice was slightly louder than he'd been expecting, but sweet none the less.

"We-well," he stuttered and nearly growled at himself internally. He was normally much more confident than this. Something about her put him slightly on edge, as if everyone that passed by them on the street was a potential rival until he got her to the sanctity of his home. "Yes. From my professional point of view."

He was unaware that he was puffing his chest out. His body had taken over his baser urges and was attempting to attract the unmated Omega. He subtly sniffed the air again, once more, just to be certain. The tantalizing pheromones she gave off did not change.

Yes, she was unmated. Well, that was good. Really good.

She appeared nonplussed. Her stance took a more aggressive and defensive edge to it. He flushed slightly, but that could have been from the way the Omega refused to lower her gaze. Blatantly challenging him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It was incredibly rude, what she was doing. He bit back a snarl of irritation, not that he actually was irritated with her, but because he just could catch a break with these American Betas and Omegas. They were just so... hard to understand sometimes...

They did not even recognize him as an Alpha sometimes, until he was close enough to smell. Which he was right now. At this moment.

With the very pretty Omega that looked as if she were three seconds from throwing her piping hot coffee into his face.

Well, this was like two or three of the scenarios he'd imagined happening before. Instead she seemed to contemplate his last sentence. Her blue gaze was slightly probing, but hard at the same time. Her lips pulled into a scowl.

"Professional point of view? And, what would that be? You gonna tell me you're from a 'modeling agency'? Or some skeevy ass 'escort' service?" She snapped at him.

Matthew had to resist the urge to back up a step. He held his ground, squaring his shoulders. For a single instant, he thought maybe instead of flinging coffee into his face, she was going to call the cops on him.

Not that, he had actually broken any laws. This was bad. Matthew needed to turn this around.

"What?" He asked, clearly horrified by even the suggestion. The Alpha was at a near loss. He would never have even though to imply that he was some _predator. _"G-good lord, no!"

His denial was nothing short of a yell, and the Omega blinked at him. Her pretty blue eyes glanced downward momentarily and then back up at him. Confusion flashed across her face, then gave way to the combined scent of mortification and relief.

"Oh." She said simply, with a million watt smile. "Then what do you want Mister?"

"I... I just wanted to tell you that you have pretty eyes." He floundered, going back to his original reason for nearly stalking the Omega out of the coffee shop, without any coffee.

"Okay," the woman replied slowly, but with some uncertainty. "Thanks?"

"You're Welcome," he replied, feeling his heart still racing in his chest. The scent of her was nearly intoxicating. It was soft, and enticing all at once. She smelt like she was the most heavenly thing on the planet.

Matthew swallowed quickly, trying to keep his hormones from raging all over the place and alerting the Omega that he was highly attracted to her. Omega's could be skittish.

She looked at the watch on her wrist, then back at him.

"Say, where are you from? You don't sound like you're from around here."

"Canada.," Matthew told her honestly.

"Oh, that's cool."

"It does get cold, yes."

He watched as she made a face, one of disbelief, before she smiled at him again. That smile that made him want to follow her around to ensure that no unscrupulous characters tried luring her into false modeling agencies again. Then beat them up, partly so that she would be impressed by his strength, and partly out of Alpha rage that anyone would dare try to take what he desired.

"You're... interesting."

He nearly preened with delight, but he could sense that it was not meant in a flattering way. Well, not yet, anyway. Well, that was a bit of a blow to his pride, but he tried to hide the sting that he words gave him.

"Actually I'm studying to be an ophthalmologist." He said, hoping to draw her into further conversation.

She gave him a blank look. Then her blue eyes widened marginally. "On a cancer doctor?"

"No," Canada said looking at the woman strangely. "That's an oncologist."

"Ah, right. So many 'ists' it is hard to keep track sometimes," she joked playfully, her earlier aggressive demeanor melted away, and Matthew felt his instinct rear to the fore front to try and get the Omega to court with him.

He chuckled, controlling his urge to try and reach out to touch her. Not in a creepy stalker way, but in a 'Please get to know my scent' sort of way. Or maybe a 'this Omega is going to be mine' sort of way.

Alright, it was the second one, but only because he could feel eyes on them from the passersby. His gaze never left the Omega, even as she glanced around, having felt the weight of the stares as well.

"I'm Amelia, by the way," she said with another bright smile as she extended her hand toward him.

Matthew grinned at that, and took it with ease.

"Matthew," he said nearly rumbling with pleasure.

She laughed and the Alpha could only stare at her in wonder.

OoOoOo

They managed to stand in front of the coffee shop and talk for about half an hour. Matthew was in near bliss. Up until the threatening scent of an unknown Alpha wafted up his nostrils, and Amelia turned to look at what he was watching. Her blue eyes widened behind her glasses as she called the Alpha over.

It would be an understatement to say that Matthew was unhappy about the tune of events. She had just been telling him about how she'd grown up in Virginia, but couldn't stand the taste of Sweet tea. She was already the sweetest thing, in his opinion. She was intelligent, and very funny. It must have been an AMerican thing, to crack so many jokes in a short conversation.

The Alpha that was encroaching on Matthew's territory, was a male that was slightly taller than him. The man had dark hair, and pale green eyes. However, he had large eyebrows that seemed to take up all of Matthew's attention for other details.

"Amelia," the greeting was warm and affectionate.

"Jett!" She said happily, taking a sip of the coffee she had barely touched.

The Alphas stared at each other. All aggressive postures and instant dislike for one another. All of it center around the blonde Omega between them.

She glanced between the pair, oblivious of the male testosterone showdown taking place directly in front of her eyes.

"Where are my manners," Amelia said brightly and completely unfazed by the situation, "this is Jett. Jett, this is Matthew."

_Jett?_ What the hell kind of a name was _Jett_? Matthew could not help but draw closer to the Omega. His shoulders were squared and his eyes were firmly focused on the dark haired alpha, with the pale green eyes.

"Charmed," he said with an accent, unlike Amelia's, framed by a predatory smile. The word was innocuous enough, but the tone told Matthew that Jett would like to see him take a deep drop with a sudden stop.

Matthew in turn, plastered a reciprocal threatening smile on his face. He was more than ready to wipe the sidewalk with this potential rival for the Omega's affections.

"The pleasure is mine," Matthew said with a slight narrowing of his eyes. The Canadian Alpha's tone suggested he'd like to push Jett into oncoming traffic.

"Jett just got back from Australia," Amelia said with a sweet look at the other Alpha. "I couldn't be more proud of him."

Matthew felt his chest tighten with the crushing weight of fury that threatened to eat away at him. Animalistic male pride, as well as baser instinct had Matthew all but stepping in front of Amelia.

Jett moved the same time that Matthew did. They were very, very, close to trading blows, right there in the street. Especially when _Jett_, still a stupid name, puffed up at Matthew.

There was no way Amelia could want this Alpha to have offspring with. The dark-haired Alpha's eyebrows were enormous. Monstrous even. Amelia could not want monster eyebrow babies. Or worse, uni-brow monster eyebrow babies. His mind balked at the mental image.

More due to anyone trying to have children with the Omega, if it wasn't Matthew. The very thought enraged a baser part of him.

Violet eyes narrowed, just as Amelia neared him and inhaled loudly. The Alpha's stilled.

"You smell." The Omega said bluntly. Her features were twisted in concentration. Matthew flushed to the roots of his hair. He had thought she'd been taking in his scent, for more... flattering reasons.

"Uh... what?" Matthew asked eloquently.

Well, that was not how he had expected this conversation to go.

Still, if his smell bothered her, there were soaps and lotions he could use. It was not a huge hurdle for the determined Alpha.

Jett dropped all hostility, and his stance went from threatening and protective, to detached. Aloof even. His scent had calmed down remarkably as he stared intently at the Omega. Drawing closer to Amelia. However concern painted Jett's face.

That only made Matthew's hackles rise further. If the Omega needed protection, he could fill that role.

"How does he smell, Amelia?" Jett asked softly, nearly encouragingly.

Her face scrunched up in thought once more. She tilted her head, and leaned toward Matthew again inhaling deeply. He felt a flare of desire spike in his belly, and he coughed to hide it. Jett glared at him.

"He smells like he is... sick?"

Wait, what? The Canadian Alpha looked at her with puzzlement. He wasn't sick. What was she talking about?

Jett gave the Omega a slow shake of his head.

"No, he is not sick. He's angry." The dark-haired Alpha said gently.

Amelia hung her head, her peach scarf was caught playfully by the wind, as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her scent blossomed with disappointment, frustration, and anger. However, she did not seem upset at Matthew or _Jett._

Matthew inched closer toward her, due to her distress. He tried to project security and comfort, but that made her scent. He glanced at the Omega.

"Hey it's alright." He said soothingly, however Amelia did not look up. She made a whimper of sadness.

Crap.

"What do you mean? That I smell sick?" Matthew asked with a touch of deepness in his voice, to help the Omega know that he was still an Alpha and she could rely upon him.

"..It's just... I..."

"Amelia has Agnosia," Jett said, greatly subdued.

Alright, Matthew was going to be a doctor himself. No matter how picky some Americans were about saying an eye doctor wasn't a real doctor. It damn well was. Either way, he was going to be a doctor himself, but he never heard of that before. However, his Alpha side refused to show weakness and ask what the hell _Jett _was going on about.

"It is the inability to classify or contrast odors, although still able able to detect odors or scents." Jett said was a hint of amusement in his words, though they were still staring at each other with distaste.

"So, you can't smell?" Matthew asked, clearly confused.

At his question the Omega looked up, and her blue eyes locked with Matthew's for a moment before lowering to the ground. She blushed and her cheeks puffed out in a pout. It was so adorable that he wanted to sweep her up and over his shoulder. He felt his Alpha instincts rearing to life at how attractive she seemed in that moment. Yeah, he'd beak the crap out of Jett for Amelia. Gladly.

"I can smell!" She huffed indignantly, but it sounded more petulant. "Totally can smell. You and your Canadian... weirdness."

The Canadian Alpha's lips twitched in amusement. His gaze became nearly predatory, as he inhaled her scent once more. He could sense her embarrassment, but there was no sadness. He could accept that.

"Amelia can smell, it's true. However," Jett said with a meaningful look at Matthew, "she cannot tell what the scents mean. To her, it has no meaning. She knows it is there, but cannot understand the usual cues that all of society knows."

Oh.

Matthew pondered that for a moment.

_OH._

That was why she had to be told he was an Alpha, and now there was _Jett. _Still a horrible name. Matthew was much more respectable. He felt his chest rumble slightly at the thought. Before the reality of what was being said crashed over him. Amelia wouldn't be able to read when someone was upset, or their orientation. She wouldn't be able to smell-

His violet eyes widened.

"I see you understand now," Jett said with a sad sort of look in his eyes. Amelia shuffled toward Jett, with a whine of resignation and a look of defeat about her. "She cannot smell aroused Alphas. It means nothing to her. That is why she never goes anywhere without family."

Matthew gave Jett a pointed look that screamed 'Bullshit'.

"She cannot tell mated pairs from unmated. So she would have to rely on others to make certain that any Alpha trying to _pursue_ her would have to understand her unique condition."

"Jett!" Amelia hissed in embarrassment, feeling like some strange zoo exhibit.

"How did that...?" The Canadian asked vaguely, alluding to her condition.

"Amelia fell-"

"I fell when I was little. The plates of my skull were still malleable. I had surgery to correct the injured site, but I suffered a brain bleed-"

"Which caused some brain damage-"

"Oh God Jett. Stop. Please. Just stop." The Omega pleaded. "You're going to make it sound like I'm special-"

"You are special," The Australian Alpha interrupted, "Special to me."

Oh, lay it on thicker, you bastard. The Canadian was close to punching the sweet-talking Alpha in the mouth. However, his mind was going over what he'd just learned. The gorgeous looking and smelling unmated Omega... had brain damage. Matthew swallowed, and glanced to Amelia, who was still gazing at him shyly and her scent was filled with bitter dejection.

"That is why I am becoming an otolaryngologist. To help find a way to assist Omegas, Beta, and Alphas that have Amelia's condition."

She sighed, and rubbed her forehead.

"Look, you know I could never stay mad at ya," Amelia said with a wan smile, as s she scratched at her arm nervously. "You've been my best friend since forever-"

He was a going to be a doctor. Just like Jett. However, he was becoming an ophthalmologist due to his childhood friend back in Canada.

_Jett_ was becoming an ear, nose, and throat doctor... _for_ Amelia. To try and cure her.

Damn that hoser! How the hell was he supposed to compete with that? He was damn well going to try, but still. Of all the rotten freaking luck on the whole-

"-Plus, it helps that you are my cousin."

-Wonderful, and amazing planet! They were related. But, not closely enough that Matthew could sense it between them. Oh thank the Lord. That he could deal with.

"Okay, so you can't read social smells, and understand the non verbal communications because of this. But you live a normal life right? You're not mated."

"Uh... yes, and no..." Amelia answered with confusion.

"And, you aren't seeing anyone right?"

"No." She shook her head, and her blonde hair caught in the morning light.

"Great." Matthew said, drawing on his full behavior as an Alpha. "Date me."

"W-what?"

"Yes, what?" Jett parroted.

He stared directly at her, unfazed by how the hell they were going to get around this. That was a problem for later, and there would be no _later _if he couldn't get her to accept him _now._

"Go. Out. With. Me." He said in a deep and rumbling voice that emanated how serious he was. "I really like you."

"Really?" She asked, clearly astonished.

"Yes."

Her coffee cup tumbled to the ground. The brown liquid splattered everywhere. The Omega blinked at the Canadian Alpha with surprise. Her head titled again, but there was a scent about her that was deep in disbelief.

"You... want...to date... me?"

"Yes," Matthew said flushing as he nodded vigorously. "Absolutely."

"Okay!"

"Wait a minute, Amelia," The dark-haired Alpha interrupted. "You know that you need an Alpha with you at all times just in case-"

Amelia looked lost, and glanced at Jett with a fragile expression of hope combined with pleading. The Australian Alpha was just as shocked as his Omega cousin that someone would still express interest in her after learning of her condition, yet he knew Matthew was serious. He cleared his throat, not immune to the puppy-dog eyes that were being thrown at him. Amelia had never gotten to go on dates. The family had always been too worried. But, she had a stable job, lived mostly on her own anyway, if you did not count her Korean roommate. She wasn't mentally impaired...other than being unable to understand what scents meant.

Jett watched the blonde Alpha, Canadian... which was strange, tried to think of the harm. He would of course, be escorting her. It would be considered very 'old school', as Amelia called it, but no one would even notice. Omegas often did still have chaperones. And, Jett's classes ended at five in the evening.

Amelia worried her lower lip and waited for him to say something.

Jett sighed. If his aunt found out about this, she'd have him dead by dessert. Yet... Jett did always have a soft spot for Amelia. He supposed just one date wouldn't hurt her.

"Fine. One date. Just the one." Jett said in a tone that pitched to low and menacing. "If you try anything, I'll-"

"Here's my number," Matthew said fishing through his pants pocket and grabbing the piece of paper he had ready just in case she actually said yes.

Amelia gave high pitched squeal of delight and wrapped her arms around Jett with excitement, only to dart closer to Matthew and grab the piece of paper.

"I'll call you when I am done teaching."

"I have class until Six."

They said at the same time. Amelia laughed and clutched the paper tighter, the one with his neatly printed numbers on it. Jett tried not to think about how many ways this could go wrong. His cousin was the happiest he'd ever seen her.

"So... call me?" Matthew asked, as he watched the Omega one more time.

"Yeah dude! I will. Promise!" Amelia babbled excitedly, turning to beam at Jett.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Alright Dear Readers,_**

**This is heavily inspired from those web comics where the countries are little balls or worlds, or something like that. (Poland Ball, thank you Flawsinthisworld!) I do not own Hetalia. At all. **

**I own nothing. I earn nothing from this. **

**Enjoy!**

OoOoOo

"You can't do that America," Brazil complained loudly.

"Do what?" The female nation challenged back.

"Pick Canada."

"But I always pick Canada!"

"That is exactly the point." The Southern nation argued, looking annoyed at the turn of events. "You always pick your neighbor."

"Not always," another voice grumbled from behind the pair.

"Stay out of this Mexico," Brazil said quickly. His dark eyes narrowed on the nation that dared to interrupt. "She always partners with Canada."

"So what?" America argued, her hands moving to her hips defiantly.

Brazil snarled at her, looking more put out that she wasn't letting him have his way. He wanted to actually win one of these stupid games. To do that, he needed America to partner with someone other than Canada.

Anyone.

The shy northern nation blushed at all the attention as several pairs of eyes swung to him.

"I-It's okay... America," he said gently.

Her blue eyes went wide and she stared at him, clearly flabbergasted.

"Don't you wanna partner with me?"

He smiled then, part of him really would like a break from always being her partner. It would be nice to play with the other nations just once or twice.

"Of course I do, but maybe... maybe we could try playing with other people for a while?"

Her blue eyes landed on him, an unreadable expression was on her face, but she shrugged and agreed.

"If that's what you want." America's gaze scanned the room. "Yo! Australia! Partner with me!"

The brown haired nation laughed and pulled out a chair for her. Canada thought nothing of it as he went to find his own partner.

He thought nothing of it.

In the beginning.

OoOoOo

At first, being around other countries had been refreshing, lively, and fun. However, Canada had assumed that America would start bugging him to play with her again. All the nations needed down time after the meetings. They played everything from cards, to board games, and even movement games like 'Charade'.

So, Canada had thought that a brief break from being partnered with America was nice. Yet, he liked playing with her. Therefore, he was mildly concerned when she didn't approach him the next time. One occasion turned into two. Two occasions turned into thirty-six.

It left Canada wholly upset and concerned. Considering that America now played with Australia every chance she got. There was no more coaxing Canada to be her partner. No more whining or poking at him until he finally gave in.

It was... unsettling.

Canada also hated that other nations had taken notice of the change as well. America without Canada? No, that was surely a mistake.

Until it was obvious that it wasn't. He taken it well, graciously even, until he couldn't keep his burning need to know what America felt for the green-eyed nation any longer. Canada needed to know what she felt for him as well. There was something going on behind those blue eyes. He was sure of it.

So he had invited her out for an evening at his house.

For privacy, and also that if things went very poorly, he could feign a head ache and lock himself upstairs for a while.

It hadn't taken long for America to ask if they could watch a movie. Canada had agreed readily, and offered to microwave some popcorn.

"Epic!" America cheered as she followed him to the kitchen.

"So," He said as he opened his pantry door. "You played with Australia again." He hoped the comment seemed carefree and casual.

"Yep." She answered lazily, stretching he arms above her head and yawing.

Canada waited for a moment, but it seemed as if that was all she was going to say on the subject. He grabbed the box of popcorn bags and took one. He unwrapped it and put it into the microwave.

"How was it?"

Yes, he sounded completely uninterested, if he ignored the way his tone hardened. Canada threw away the plastic wrapper and pressed the button. The machine whirred to life and began spinning the bag around.

"Well, we won. So, you know, it was good."

"Right."

"Are you okay?"

"Of course."

America shrugged and nodded at his words. "How did you like your partner?"

"Well, Russia is competitive. I doubt he was happy that we lost."

"Oh yeah. He would be."

"So... Australia... and you get along well."

"Yeah, he's a sweetheart."

Sweetheart? When did that happen?!

"I see." Canada said, slightly annoyed.

She made a funny expression and then grinned it away. America took a deep breath and savored the scent of popcorn that filled the kitchen.

They waited until it was finished, and Canada poured the hot contents into a bowel. America grabbed it up quickly.

"Do you... like him better than me?" Canada asked, silently seething at how America had flirted so readily with Australia.

It had come out of nowhere, but America seemed to take him seriously.

Her blue gaze landed on him, and she flashed him a 'are you crazy or something?' gaze, before snorting and turning back to continue to the living room.

"No dude. I don't like Australia more than you."

She said that, but did she mean it? Because his heart nearly leapt into his throat at her words. It wasn't that he, Canada, didn't have a lot to offer. Everyone got along well with him... outside of Quebec. However, Canada possessed practical talents.

Australia... well...

"But... he had a city called Batmania!"

America rolled her eyes, and laughed a little. "And Batman is cool, but that was not what the name meant back then. Yeah it was called that for a while, and now it's called Melbourne."

"I know that he deployed Snipers in 2009!"

The Star Spangled nation shook her head. If they were talking about Finland, she would care just a smidge more. But they all had military, and who Australia deployed was not her concern unless he was on U.S. soil or protected territories.

Which he wasn't... so... America was unconcerned.

Canada blinked at her lack of care. She was being buddy-buddy with Australia just hours ago. His violet eyes narrowed behind his glasses, as he wondered if America was just that infatuated with the brown-haired nation.

"To protect penguins from predators." He continued, waiting for her to crack and give some indication hat she was head over heels for the down under Casanova.

Well , America did give a response, but it was to giggle in amusement.

Canada was taken aback.

"Really?"

"Yes," Canada replied as he trailed after America, who showed no signs of staying to listen to him talk about Australia.

"And people talk crap about my military spending."

"I know he has more weapons than me," Canada muttered. Only slightly bitter, however he refused to back down.

America paused, turning toward him more fully, her blue eyes squinted behind Texas in curiosity. An unreadable expression on her pretty face.

"What?" Her tone conveyed that she was perplexed by his statement, or perhaps it was his body language. "What does that have to do with anything?"

The Northern nation fisted his hands at his sides, feeling annoyed with himself for not being able to say what he wanted to say.

"Do you like him better than me?"

"I already told you, no." She said as her eyebrows furrowed at his demeanor.

He searched her face, finding nothing but the full truth.

"Then why don't you try to partner up with me during games anymore?" He asked, slightly lost. If America didn't like Australia better... then why wasn't she...

Why weren't things the way they used to be? When America hung off his arm and complimented his strategy as he watched her flushed cheeks with something akin to self-contained delight. The way it was when she made him feel like he could do anything with her at his side.

Even beat other countries soundly at whatever the game of the evening was.

"YOU said you wanted to play with some other countries for a while." America pointed out logically.

Damn. He had said that, hadn't he? Still. HIs violet eyes locked with bright blue.

"France said-"

"Oh God. You were listening to _France_ again?"

"He is perfectly respectable and-"

"And what?"

"I'm getting to that part," Canada complained as he took a deep breath, trying to keep from yelling at America. There were times that she was just so hard to talk to. "He said that it looked like... you'd start picking Australia all of the time now."

There. He had said it. It also left enough wiggle room to allow America to read between the lines. His poor heart couldn't take America riding off into the sunset with a country whose Koalas were endangered because half of them had Chlamydia! Granted, parts of his own country left their cars unlocked so that people could seek shelter from polar bear attacks.

But that was neither here nor there!

Silence settled between the pair, and Canada felt his hopes of this all being a very bad dream, going right out the window. He was just about to apologize, and slink back into the living room, when America broke the stillness.

"That's stupid," America said with a laugh, putting Canada slightly at ease. Though it also slightly offended him at the same time.

It was a legitimate concern.

"Why?"

"'Cause I'll always pick you." She said with a secretive smile. "I thought you knew that by now."

"What?" He asked, still confused.

"I don't care if you have weapons or any of that stuff," America responded brightly, " because I have enough for both of _us_. Don't you get it? You know I'd never let someone attack you without doing something about it. Hell, you declared war on Japan before I did, after Pearl Harbor."

He felt his face flush, and his chest felt as if his heart were trying to hammer out of it.

"Oh." He managed, when he wasn't able to put together a coherent thought. So she was talking just about defenses.

The star-spangled nation continued to smile, as if she were waiting for him to say something more or some sort of recognition.

"Thank you," he muttered. His tone was a little miserable.

America reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I've told you a hundred times Canada," she said softly in a slightly reproachful tone. He looked up at her then, blinking for a moment.

"I love you!" America boasted proudly as she stared into his startled violet gaze. "It doesn't matter how many weapons you do or don't have. I tried to invade you, twice, when we were younger. I lost to you. Both times! Now that is damn impressive to me. "

"You-You-You've never said that!" Canada managed to sputter out.

"I haven't?" She asked, sincerely surprised. America glanced away for a moment in deep thought. "Oh. I guess I haven't. But I do. I do love you."

He gawked at the fact that she mentioned it so candidly. America moved closer to him, a look of tenderness in her gaze that Canada had never really noticed before.

Had that... had that always been there?

Was the room spinning?

"It doesn't matter if you make friends with the freakiest Countries on the planet, or try to take over the world with a polar bear army. I can't picture me without you. Not really. So, I'll pick _you_. _Every time_." America promised him with a hint of huskiness to her voice.

She pulled him toward her, and pressed their lips together. The popcorn dropped from her hands, as she kept Canada close to her.

Canada felt as if his heart would burst...

Because he finally understood that it didn't matter if they had other partners for silly games. America would always choose him.

And, the gentle country just couldn't find it in himself to give a damn about Australia anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Dear readers,**_

_**We all know I own nothing. This is a drama piece/drabble related to the American and Canadian Memes. **_

_**The US is currently the most hated Country in the world...(According to Four sites on Google, so take some of this with a grain of salt). *sigh* We really are not that bad. T.T**_

_**I own nothing, rated M. **_

OoOoOo

Canada meant the words. Every bit of them, as he snarled in anger at England.

Poor unsuspecting England whom had only meant it as a comment of observation. An opinion really. So therefore, he was rather startled by the violent reaction and murderous glare that met his statement.

"The largest insult," The Northern nation said with deliberate slowness, "is to tell me that America and I are the _same."_

He felt victorious, he knew he is better liked than his Southern Neighbor. The whole world adored Canada and often spoke to him about concerns they had with America. Due to the fact that America, more often than not, listened to him.

He was, without a doubt, the more superior nation, as far as the world was concerned.

His violet eyes were narrowed with his anger, and even England backed up a step. But it was the way his eyes shifted toward the door, that had Canada's heated blood -fueled by his fury- cooling as it it had turned to ice.

America stood in the doorway, and she watched him silently. Her face was pale, and he felt his own flush in response to seeing her right there. He knew without a doubt, that she had heard every word. Her blue eyes gazed at him unflinchingly, and she tilted her head to the side. Briefly, something flickered across her eyes, but it was gone in an instant too quick to fully comprehend what it had been. A smile slowly worked its way on her face, and America turned toward England.

As if nothing had been said. As if Canada hadn't just likened to being akin to America as the worst of insults or degrading terms.

"Are you ready to go?" She asked in a steady voice as Canada was internally panicking.

While it was true that he felt that way, he hadn't exactly intended for her to hear it. America made jokes about him all of the time.

Though usually, it was meant to be taken as a joke. Wasn't it? She always cracked a smile or nudged him with her elbow to get him to laugh.

The island nation nodded quickly, nervously glancing between the pair. The Northern nation thought he should apologize. Even if he meant the words, he shouldn't have said them. It was impolite. Canada was a polite nation to his very core.

"America-" The spectacled male nation started, looking half guilty over expressing his opinion.

She looked at him, or perhaps, through him. There was a distance in her eyes that he had never seen directed toward him before. As if she were worlds away in the few feet that separated them.

"Canada?" She asked blandly, as if she were commenting on the weather.

"I'm sorry." He said, actually feeling contrite over the harsh tone he'd had.

"For what?"

He swallowed again, feeling slightly out of place. "For eh... what I just said."

She continued to smile, in a polite way that made him feel somehow infinitely worse. Nantucket did not even sway as she bobbed her head in a nod of acknowledgement.

"Think nothing of it," America assured him quickly, as England grabbed his coat and headed over. HIs green eyes were searching America's impassive face. He could sense the change between them and Canada felt uncertain of what to do about the situation.

A lump had formed in his throat, from where, Canada didn't know. However, he could tell that all was not right or as it should be between them.

"Yes, but I-"

She speared him then, with a look that almost rivaled the coldest day in his history. Her blue eyes looked like shards of fragmented ice sheets. The smile on her lips seemed forced, and fragile. As if she was barely holding onto it.

"As I said. Think nothing of it." She nodded to England then. Before glancing back at Canada quickly, but sharply. Like a snake in the grass that had to be watched carefully. "You wouldn't be the first, and you certainly won't be the last."

A sentiment that was as damming as it was true.

There was a note in those words that was sad, and all together overly accepting that such a thing was bound to happen. As if it was always inevitable for Canada to despise being compared to her. So what? She started wars, she funded wars, her people were riddled with flaws.

Hundreds of other countries would agree with him. Heck, even England did not like America all that much.

Every country was flawed. Imperfect in some way. Despised by someone. Very few more so than America.

The one nations loved to despise and ridicule.

It wasn't until later, when he got home, that Canada really realized what America meant. It blazed up at him from a computer screen. A new article on from the website of his e-mail. Something he normally would never even bother to read.

Yet, this title glared at him, almost condescendingly.

"_U.S., The Most Hated Country in the World."_

And, part of him-lost in a pang of regret and self-deprecation- couldn't help but feel as if maybe ... America was hurt by being so thoroughly disliked. Maybe it had made his comment sting that much more, because Canada knew...

She thought they were friends.

OoOoOo

The next meeting arrived, full of bitter murmurs of annoyance and impatience, Canada tried not to think about the fact America hasn't called or e-mailed. At all. She hasn't spoken to him since then. Though, her secretary is really rather nice and all that. He knows because when he has called with well-crafted excuses for needing to speak with her, hoping to repair the damage, she is never 'available'.

Canada knows for the purposes of business, America gets the job done. All the proverbial 'I's are dotted and 'T's crossed. So, there is nothing for him to complain about. Even when a territory of his was disputed for a few tense weeks, The United States had come in full force. Threatening action if anything was done against Canada.

It hardly makes the news, no one would risk attacking for so little reward, but it further reminds him that America would step up if he needed her. The reminder leaves a burning, acidic, pit of discomfort in his stomach. It feels suspiciously like guilt.

All that is tossed to the wayside, however, so that he can speak to her today.

However, when he arrived, he noticed that they are not seated next to each other. It is so out of place, that it actually causes Canada to pause. The fact is glaring and disconcerting.

It might not have been her doing. America does not assign seats after all. He tried to reassure himself with that logical thought. The effect falls flat and he grows even more concerned at her unusual behavior.

The blonde female nation did not look at him once, and Canada couldn't help but feel...

As if he'd let go of something that had been very important.

Most of all to America.

Something that was so wonderful, but also terribly fragile. The Northern nation swallowed as the traitorous lump from before resurfaced in his throat. That something that had been so delicate until he'd smashed it to pieces.

And, he is smart enough to understand it is nearly irreparably broken by the way America refuses everything she had given so freely before. Her time. Her attention. Mostly of all, her affection.

Canada missed them far too keenly now.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Alright Dear Readers,_**

**Okay so this is based off of that prompt going around about a de-aged nation. Canada was chosen. You have been warned. Fluffiness and Romance shall ensue. **

**BEWARE!**

**I own nothing. I earn nothing from this. Author does not claim ownership to characters/sayings/ ideas herein.**

**Enjoy!**

OoOoOo

It all happened when Romania and Norway got into an argument over whose magic was stronger. Which of course, lead to Russia interjecting that his was. Therefore, it should not have been a surprise when England chimed in that his occult knowledge could best all of them combined.

This lead to the exchanging of insults. Most aimed directly at the offending party, but some were colorful combinations of animal parts, someone's mother, and pointed remarks about said 'mother's' true profession.

None of which were complimentary.

Though really, it was Romania's fault.

At least, that was what America saw of it. Or, that was to say, what she could glimpse from the freaky way the four aforementioned nations were moving about and making up words. There was, inexplicably, some incense and mist about.

She wasn't going to think too much about that. Well, perhaps later she would contemplate how it was possible for the forces of nature to spontaneously appear inside the building. But, for now, she was gaping in disbelief. For suddenly the strange swirling mist that should have been a direct hit on Russia, was deflected.

America managed to dodge, but poor Canada, her sweet neighbor, was not so lucky. He had been trying to keep the peace and settle everyone down. Therefore he was distracted, and did not notice what hurtled right for him.

In an instant, however, he was dramatically changed.

America's blue eyes widened behind Texas, and even Nantucket paused in its bounding as she stared at a version of Canada she knew...

From a very long time ago.

"Holy shit!" She exclaimed loudly, causing most nations to look where she was. The shout of surprise seemed to echo through the rafters as many sets of eyes landed on a very young, clad only in a night shirt and bow, Canada.

The Netherlands started forward, a smile on his face, likely just to comfort the child. However, any move toward Canada was seen as aggressive by America. Because, it was _Canada_, and that equated to a big red neon sign above his adorable head reading 'Hands off!'

Her hand was on the Netherland's shoulder, even though he was an ally and on some level she understood that -but once again, no one was allowed to touch so much as _a hair_ on his cute little head-.

"Touch him," America hissed out with all seriousness, "and I will _end_ you."

The Netherlands flushed white as every American horror movie came to mind as the Star-spangled nation gave him an eerie look. The male nation sat down quietly, and tried to calm himself with mental images of frolicking rabbits.

Canada's appeared as if he were about to cry.

His violet eyes were wide as well, as he started to tremble at all the nations peering at him in mute disbelief.

America bounded over a table, and pushed France out of the way as the other nation moved toward his former charge. Both America and France knew that there would be some countries that would prey upon a confused nation.

But, she was the hero, and not even France was allowed to touch Canada when America was in 'over protective' mode. Which was now. Besides, Canada looked lost and confused.

And, if Canada wasn't confused by all of this, then America's name was Shirley. The United States of Shirley. Ugh, that would have been terrible.

"Hey dude!" She greeted with a wide smile and a soft tone as she stood before the colony.

America vaguely recalled Canada being a bit skittish at this age. Or maybe that was because they used to terrify each other with ghost stories. No wait, Canada terrified America with ghost stories. Huh. Why was she helping him again?

She glanced to the side and saw a few other nations creeping forward. America's 'overprotective' side came back in full force and she gave an eerie smile that had many nations moving back slowly. Then she blinked and looked down at the colony, wondering why the boy had that effect on her.

Oh right. It was _Canada. _

Yep. Yep. She was going to cut someone if they came too close.

"Invaders!" Canada 'eeped' out with dismay. His stubby legs carried him a bit further from the other nations. His gaze narrowed on them all, as he stood his ground, trembling. However, it lessened as he noticed America smiling at him.

"America, you need to-" He turned his head to the left, ready to say more, but stopped abruptly. "America?"

"Yes?" The Star-Spangled nation answered cheerfully.

It turned out to be the wrong thing to say.

"Go away! Leave me alone. I have to-" The young Canada said as fiercely as he could managed, which was all rather adorable. So much so that America laughed softly in delight.

"Nope!" She replied happily. "I can't leave ya. I'm the hero!"

At her words, something flickered through the young nation's eyes. A faint flare of recognition. His trembling ceased and he looked at her curiously, but with distrust.

"Pardon me, but only America can say that," Canada replied respectfully, but petulantly. His violet eyes glanced around once more. "Where...where... is America? We were playing... and...and..."

Just as she was about to answer, the star-spangled nation noticed that Canada started to tremble again, a bit of steel in the glare he leveled at the other nations.

"Did you take her?! We are under royal protection. If you hurt her... I'll... I'll... you give her back!"

A bright grin answered his frank statement. So he was from the time when they had both been colonies to different countries. Either way, by his words...he was definitely Canada, America knelt before him, trying not to crowd him or scare him.

"Canada," the female nation said gently.

His gaze widened. The young colony blinked at her in stupefaction.

"H-how do you know my name?"

"It's me," She said as she placed a hand over her heart. "America."

He took a step back, his younger features showed anxiety and disbelief. Before it turned slightly contemptuous.

"You should not lie. It is unbecoming on a lady. No matter, you are much too big to be America." Canada said firmly.

"I've been telling her that for years-" France began a little snidely.

The female nation turned her head toward him slightly. A sweet smile still on her lips.

"Do you want to leave this room in one piece or ten?" America asked brightly.

"Never mind." France muttered before glancing at Canada again.

"France?!" Canada called out, clearly recognizing the older nation.

"Oui."

The colony's features twisted into confusion, his brow furrowed as he contemplated.

"If...if France is here... then where..." he trailed off, looking anxious. "Where is America?"

"Right here," said nation replied once more. "Canada, it really is me."

He looked doubtful, as he worried his bottom lip. Tears welled in his eyes.

"I bet," America said suddenly, looking around slyly, "That I can tell you something only the real America would know."

Now, to a young colony, that sounded like flawless logic. The rest of the world gave varying glances of exasperation at the Star-spangled nation. Canada, nodded slowly and carefully moved toward her. America leaned in and whispered something that only he could hear.

Though several nations tried valiantly to eavesdrop, without success.

America pulled back after a moment, grinning and laughing. Her blue eyes sparkled behind Texas.

"Believe me now?"

Canada's trembling started again, only this time it was plain to see the relief and excitement he possessed.

"It is you! In truth!" And with that he launched himself at America.

She caught him easily and pulled him in for a long hug. "I told ya, silly. Of course it's me."

"You... You've gotten so big!" Canada gasped out when America released him. His violet eyes were wide with wonder.

"Yeah! I know!" America agreed excitedly. "It's really cool."

"...but... if you are big, why am I still small?" Canada asked as he pointed to himself thoughtfully.

"Well, you got bigger too. But something happened and it shrunk you," she answered honestly.

Canada nodded, then he peeked up shyly. His face was hopeful and a bit embarrassed.

"Am I as big as you?"

"Even bigger!" America replied cheerfully.

"I am?"

"Totally dude! You are the second largest nation on the planet!" She continued with growing excitement and it caused Canada to mirror her enthusiasm.

His eyes were so wide, they nearly swallowed up his whole face as Canada stared at America. Joy was all but pouring off of him. The childish sort of joy that comes from being told you are good at something.

"Truly?"

"Of course!"

Her loud proclamation was met with a low grumble.

"Russia is the largest by landmass," said nation interjected.

"Shut up!" America snapped, "not everything is about _you."_

"America?" Canada asked softly.

"Yes?" She turned back toward Canada.

"Does that mean... that we got married?"

America paused, confused momentarily by what he was asking. Why would he think that they would-

Then she remembered, like an old and worn photograph, the moment they had met together on a hillside, in neutral land, after hearing about treaties for the first time from France. How they were like a marriage, and how marriage had sounded so intriguing to the young colonies.

Where, Canada had promised her, with a pink face, that he would marry her when he became a nation. America, in her naiveté, had agreed quickly, proclaiming them by that strange title France was known to use.

America shook her head and laughed again.

"No Canada."

"Why not?" He asked with sadness in his face. "Do you not love me anymore?"

It was like a harpoon through her heart. America's eyes widened and she looked horrified.

"Of course I love you!" She shouted out, louder than needed.

Canada appeared mollified. The world however, seemed shocked.

"Then why-?"

"Things change," she said gently, trying to break it to him easily. "Time changed us both. By the time we both achieved independence, you didn't want to marry anymore."

It was England that noticed how America said 'you' and not 'we'. He cleared his throat to distract other nations from noticing it as well.

"What things?"

America sighed heavily. She wasn't going to tell kid-Canada about the horrors of war. Or the periods of time where he wanted nothing to do with her and didn't trust her. Granted, she had tried to invade him twice, so it really was understandable. However, he was just a colony at the moment.

"Just... things." America hedged as she looked away. "Anyway, I could never find a cup you wanted to share anyway."

"Oh. So we couldn't get married then."

America was about to reply, agreeing with him, over the silly misconception they had about marriages at the time. Both convinced that the reason people married was because they shared the cup the priest put in front of them.

Then she noticed the heavy weight of hundreds of stares that were leveled at her.

"What?!" America snapped looking around with a blush hot on her cheeks. "We were only colonies. We thought it worked that way."

Canada blinked, his bright and large violet eyes were trained on America, admiring the fact that she had grown up rather pretty. Canada liked pretty things. He placed his arms around America's neck as she held him, hugging her tightly.

America's gaze shifted to Canada and her expression of ire melted into one of tenderness as she allowed him to hug her.

"Do not worry America," Canada promised softly, "when I get bigger again, I'll keep my promise. I'll marry you. Cup or no cup!"

Canada had no idea why all the other nations broke into merry laughter, or why America was bright red. He'd never seen her do that before. And, he had never heard some of the words she started shouting while others admonished her for her 'language'. However, none of it really mattered to young Canada, because America had found him. When he was all alone with these scary large nations, and France. Not that France was bad, but he was relieved to have America with him.

And he was going to take better care to watch over her, from now on.

Because, after all, he _had _promised.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Request for a different Canada/America Omega verse based off the one in Problems? No, Problems Dude!**_

**We all know what this entails, in Omegaverse, for those that do not. Consider it really just humans with overwhelming animalistic urges and a reason to write smut. **

**I say that with love :)**

**BEWARE!**

**I own nothing. I earn nothing from this. Author does not claim ownership to characters/sayings/ ideas herein.**

**Enjoy!**

OoOoOo

He knew something was off, before he even walked in the door. His first clue was the way America was practically at his side, with a hint of panic in her scent. Well, it was strange but... wait..panic? Oh no. His violet eyes widened behind his glasses with the overwhelming sense of dread that filled his stomach.

America panicking? That meant one of three things, and Canada did not see a mushroom cloud out the window. The dead had not risen, and octopuses had not become sentient. The last one he had argued with his dear neighbor over with for eight days.

Eight long and terrible days, where Canada was forced to pick some marine animal and try to debate back why it would be the next sentient species and not the Octopus. He'd chosen dolphins. It seemed like a legitimate claim for something so astoundingly illogical.

Really.

However, that was neither here nor there as America continued to press up against him and nearly choke him with the heavy but acidic scent of panic laced with some fear.

So... he knew something was _wrong. _Carefully he scrutinized her appearance and she seemed alright. Perhaps a bit more on edge, and for a fraction of a second it hit him that she was actually rather attractive. But he already knew that. However, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, warning him of imminent danger.

Something was up.

He just did not know _what_ that something was. But, he had an unyielding certainty that he was about to find out. He blinked, as America smiled at him sweetly.

"Hey Canada?"

"Yes?" He questioned, feeling as if this were some sort of trap.

"How much do you love me?"

... and that it was _big_. Canada frowned, already knowing that he was actually going to have to amass forces at this rate. His people were not going to like this.

"Oh God, what have you done now?" He said, blinking down at his neighbor. Her blonde hair was nicely arranged today. Texas was perched on the bridge of her nose, where it rightfully belonged. Distractedly her thought that the curve of her neck was long and elegant.

Canada mentally shook himself. He had no idea where that had come from.

America looked indignant, as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do you always ask that? I haven't done anything!"

His violet eyes narrowed on her shrewdly. However, he could only see the truth shining in her features. Well, that and what looked like lip-gloss. He delicately sniffed the air, he nearly coughed up a storm. Now that the panic had faded somewhat, her could tell that America was practically bathed in perfume. She smelled like one of England's gardens, which might have been pleasant in an _actual_ garden.

His nose stung a bit, as did his throat, however, his baser nature took note of something. Underneath all the false scents, there was a lingering sweetness. Something that caught in his mind, but not enough to sway him from the concern at hand.

"You swear?"

"Of course I swear! It's nothing I've _done._"

Yes, that wasn't ominous at all. Canada shifted, felling strangely compelled to get closer to America. The way her shoulders hunched in due to some exasperation, made her look smaller. More vulnerable. As if she needed Canada to protect her.

She swayed toward him slightly, then paled and moved back a step. Canada could not say exactly why he followed that single step after her. Part of him, did not like the idea of parting from America so soon. Which was strange, because normally, he just wanted to attend the meeting and go home. As he had before they started talking this morning.

"Oh, then I like you enough to listen to the rest of your request." He said neutrally, but a slightly predatory twist came to his features.

She didn't appear fazed by his lack of love, or concern. They knew each other well enough that had it actually been overly dire, he would have at least received a call from his leadership by now.

Hopefully...

If not his leadership, then someone would have mentioned something on social media. Or the news.

"Epic! So anyway, do you think that if it came down to it you could...just purely hypothetical here... fight off an entire room of Alpha countries?" The words rushed out, except for her clarification of it being 'hypothetical'. He did not think that word meant, what she thought it meant, by the way she said it. She beamed at him.

Canada glanced at her, eyes widening slightly before his brow lowered in worry.

"...Why?"

"No reason." She hedged with a nervous wringing of her hands.

Like he believed that after last time. Spain still had some misgivings over talking to him because of the 'incident'.

"America?" His tone was sharp, slightly reprimanding.

She winced, actually winced and Canada watched her posture drop a bit. In fact it almost looked as if she were shrinking away from him. He was about to interrupt when he caught of whiff of that overly sweet, and somewhat tantalizing scent. He glanced around for a moment. It was definitely... Omega. Was Finland in heat again? He hoped not. Sweden was a nightmare when Finland was cycling.

America started making a soft whine in the back of her throat. One that had him nearly crowding her. His violet eyes switched back to America. Uncertainty in his face. America saw it, and let out a long sigh. She clutched her hands together in front of her.

"Canada, promise me you won't get mad."

Her words were soft, gentled, and reluctant. That should have been a key indication of something being not all together correct about the situation.

The Northern nation was distracted by the scent, but attempted to keep his attention focused on his neighbor of centuries. Also, there was the fact that America almost never used that phrasing unless it was something that was going to get Canada involved in trouble. Usually, a lot of trouble. And, somehow France or another European nation would get insulted. Then it would be months before everything got back to normal.

"I promise I will _try_ not to get mad," he clarified slowly. For some reason, he was unable to just walk away from America at the moment. However, he would put his own stipulation in.

Just to be safe.

America did a half-step and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I haven't been exactly...uh... truthful... about something."

Well, that was certainly vague enough to cause him to worry even more. The thought of her being vulnerable to an attack of some sort. Or her being punished by the EU filled him with a sense of anger. A bit of aggression roared to life in his veins, as he nearly crowded America again in an effort to provide her a sense of security. There was a distinct tremor to her voice when she said the words.

He was, admittedly confused. He never reacted to America this way, but his instinct was in full force and he could not stop it.

"Alright," he said softly, keeping his voice low. A strange need to comfort America stole over him, at the look she was giving him now. As if he, Canada, was her only made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle with the urge to make sure she was safe. Out of danger.

"What haven't you been truthful about?"

_Please not weapons. Please not weapons. Please not-_

She gave a nervous tug on her suit jacket. The gesture was nearly child-like and betrayed just how anxious she was. "Well, you remember when I said I was an Alpha?"

Canada's lips quirked, half-amused at what that had to do with anything. Until America met his gaze and couldn't hold it. She was acting like...

No. That was not possible. Was it?

His mind nearly had a small implosion right then and there.

"What? What does your being an Alpha have to do-?"

"I'm not... I mean _technically_, and really what is all this semantics bullshit about anyway... but I'm not an... _Alpha_. Per se." She winced again and glanced at him nervously. The sweet scent only seemed to grow stronger.

It only took two seconds for Canada to go into a rage.

For him.

"Per se? What the hell does that mean?"

Because... really!

"Well," she said with a high pitch to the end of her word. "You see..."

"You're a Beta?" He demanded, nearly ready to drag her home and insist she stay there. If anyone found out that she wasn't an Alpha, it could cause an upheaval. She had lied. She could not possibly be persuaded or bullied. There were countries that had been waiting to get something over on America.

"Do you know how bad this is?"

His chastising did not seem to strike home as much as Canada would have proffered, for the Star-Spangled nation made a soft whine in her throat again.

"Yeah, that would be totally bad... if..."

"_If_?" Canada asked, going pale.

"If.. I were a _Beta."_

Wait. If she wasn't an Alpha... and she wasn't a Beta... then...

"Oh Dear Lord." The revelation nearly knocked all the wind out of his sails. He stared at her as if she'd grown an extra head. Canada swallowed, trying not to feel dizzy, as her scent washed over him and the very real fear rose above the veritable garden of perfume she was wearing.

This would forever scar his ability to go into England's back yard.

Forever.

Unfortunately, he was scheduled for a visit in two months. He would think of something later. This was by far, the worst thing to happen to him today.

"Canada?" America asked, slowly and cautiously coming closer to him. A gentle noise of comfort managed to steal its way out of her throat. As if she wanted to placate him. Omegas... were not a threat.

Canada's Alpha instincts reared to the fore front again, as the Omega attempted to calm his anger. It all made sense now. Why he could never remain furious at America. She was actually, biologically speaking, someone who could never challenge him. The reason he let her get away with all her hi-jinks, and why he hadn't been provoked to jealousy by being ignored in the meetings due to her.

She was an Omega.

_The United States of America_ was an Omega.

How did he miss that? How the hell did they all miss that?!

"You've got to be kidding me." He said, grumbling as he kept his body from making an aggressive stance. To ward off other Alphas, not to intimidate the female nation.

America lowered her head a bit, before bringing it back up. Canada moved them away from the doors, just in case someone came in. His hand on the small of her back, as he guided her, caused that sweet scent to spike to new heights. He swallowed heavily, feeling more antsy and agitated.

She nodded, understanding that he was not pleased by the news. Part of him was highly pleased that she had come to him, of all nations.

"I really wish I was, but this isn't the sort of thing that calls for a whoopee cushion or 100,000 ladybugs being set loose in England's home... so..."

"That was you?" He asked, momentarily distracted.

England had been furious, trying to get all of the 'blasted things' out. They had invaded everywhere. His cupboards, his couch, the windows, the bathroom, and...

It had been a _little_ funny to hear about.

"Yes, but that is not the point right now." She said, checking over her shoulder. Still no one.

"You're not. Not really, right?" He said with a mounting sense of dread.

"Not what?"

Canada glanced around, trying to be stealthy. He mouthed a single word, and America looked down sharply.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah I am."

"How? How did you get away with hiding this?" His tone conveyed just how stupefied he was by this. She was how old? And, not a single nation thought anything out of place? Not even England?

"Well, I'm a nation." She pointed out, daring to risk a glance up at him. "So you know... I... look, it only happens like once every 50 years anyway and-"

"Happens?" He choked out.

Please, let her not be saying what he thought she might be saying.

"You know," she said blushing to the roots of her hair. "_Heat."_

_Oh God. She was. _

"Oh God." Canada breathed, feeling his shoulder straighten even more. He puffed out his chest not realizing he was doing so. America was in danger. Real danger. From possible suitors. Something hot and uncomfortable burned in the pit of his stomach, at the idea of America with someone else. He was once more, slightly appeased by the fact she had come to him in her time of need.

She grabbed at his lower arm gently, nearly skittishly. His gaze focused on where she touched him. Almost entirely against his will. A soft growl worked its way through his throat. He was happy about all of this. America responded with a distressed noise.

"Come on, if you just help me for a few hours-"

Help her? With what? His mind played connect the dots for a moment, and all of it ended up somewhere with a nest that smelled like America's. Which caused a rush fo heat to pool in his loins. In turn, that made him more irritated because she was an Omega and he hadn't even known.

"Help you? Holy crap America. What do you want me to do here?"

She made a helpless sort of facial expression.

"Help me hide the fact that I'm... _you know_."

If this was a joke, he was going to kill her. If this was not a joke, it had better damn well be a joke. However, he knew with certainty that this was not some tomfoolery she was hoping to pull on him.

Damn. The one time he might have been okay with it. The suddenly sweet scent wafted up his nose. His mouth watered, but he swallowed back any urges that came to the forefront.

"You're in heat?!" He hissed, looking nearly murderous as the smell of her heat continued to tickle his nose. His eyes were darkening, though he was unaware of it. His body seemed to crowd around her, as he blocked her from escaping. Not that she was trying to. America nodded slowly, tilting her head down a bit.

"Well, once again... I mean, _technically_."

"Technically? There is no technically here! There either is or there isn't. That's like saying you are half-pregnant. There is no such thing!" He began shouting.

Her gaze widened in horror at the noise he was making.

"Keep it down! Geez! Look, they can't know Canada. You are one of my closest allies. Figuratively and literally. Please, I am asking you as a friend. Help me hid this just for this meeting. Canada you are the only one I trust to help me with this. Please!"

Her blue eyes pleaded with him. Canada rand a hand through his hair in frustration. He looked at her pointedly, and America did her best to hold his gaze. He knew that she was at her weakest right now. As was evidenced by the fact that it still dropped when he pinned her with a hard look. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but it only caused him to become more excited.

His eyes dilated. He strove to think of anything else than the animalistic urges that were coursing in his thoughts.

"How has no one figured this out before?"

"It only happens once every 50 years. Most people do not stay around me long enough to figure it out. I've been doing and using things to help me mask my scent since I was a colony. Plants mostly. You know?"

No, he didn't. No part of him knew anything about _this._ He had been a colony with her, and he sure as hell hadn't been able to see she was an omega, by the way she goaded him.

"Stop saying 'You know'." He snapped out, a bit roughly.

She flashed a timid smile. One that was strained at the edges.

"Sorry, turn of phrase. Anyway, I am a little stubborn and I'm very opinionated as well as loud mouthed-"

"Oh! Oh! Now you finally admit it? This is rich. This is just too -"

America made a noise of distress that had the Alpha in him responding instantly. Canada shut his mouth, and pressed himself against her, giving a reassuring presence once more. She turned her head and buried it into his shoulder, accepting the comfort he offered. His chest rumbled as his mind fought over what to do to keep the world from noticing. He was ready to have an ulcer on the spot, and he felt bad that he was chastising her when she was likely much worse off than him.

America keened softly, and Canada felt his resolve harden. He was going to help her. Absently, he lifted a hand and ran it through her hair.

"I'm sorry. Yes, alright. Alright. I'll help you hide the fact that you're..."

"'You know'." She mumbled into his suit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Those two words were going to haunt his sleep for years to come. He could just feel it.

"Yes. That you're '_you know'."_

America pulled back, with surprise evident on her features.

_"_Canada you are the best!" She said, beaming at him, her scent changed to relived and that had him feeling less on edge. No less protective, but less on edge.

"Thank you."

He stilled, looking at her again.

"Wait, if you have been masking your scent since you were a colony, then why is it a problem right now?"

"I've never had to mask it during a heat before," America confessed shyly, looking more than a tad nervous. "And, it really doesn't help that I am not at home, where some of my distress could be helped by my people, the omegas at least, taking most of the burden away from me."

Canada blinked at her, clearly thinking.

"Is that why you're birth rates are so high, by comparison?"

America blushed and looked away.

"I neither confirm nor deny that."

"It is, isn't it?" He said with all seriousness. The low rumbling in his chest started again, and without realizing what he was doing; he subtly sniffed America again.

She tilted her head slightly, allowing him better access, as if it were perfectly normal for Canada to do such a thing.

"All I am giving you," America responded with equal seriousness, "is a firm 'Maybe'."

Canada chuckled softly at her response, as he moved back and began to take off his suit jacket. It left him only in his shirt and tie, but he still cut a dashing figure. America watched him with a curious expression.

"What are you doing?" She asked, unable to contain the question.

Canada draped his suit coat over her shoulders, and America sniffed it gently. She knew the clean and masculine scent of her neighbor anywhere. He was like... his scent was like... America could not truly explain it. However, the closest comparison she could give, was akin to coming home.

"We have to try and hide your scent, right?" He rumbled out a bit more authority now than America had ever seen him, outside of conflicts.

She blushed slightly, and nodded. "Yeah dude, totally."

He reached out and gently brushed some hair from her face, the golden strands easily moved as he smiled at her.

"Then you can wear this through the meeting." Canada said graciously.

America smiled reflexively, and pushed her arms through his jacket, adjusting it.

"Can I sit next to you too?"

Canada blinked, and the northern nation pondered the request. It would look better and his continued scent might disguise America's. Which would only help, because her scent was growing ever stronger and soon it would be distracting to all the other unmated Alpha nations. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the conference room, America followed without complaint as they headed toward their seats.

His violet eyes scanned the seating arrangements. Ah. There was his name, and America was supposed to be sitting...

Somewhere...

There!

Next to Argentina.

Well, that was most certainly _not_ happening today. Canada growled lowly in his throat at the thought of the star-spangled nation being stuck next to the South American country that had sex on the dance floor. Which, admittedly, was called the Tango, but Canada felt that his ire was still justified. Also, Argentina was known for his red wines, and romance tactics.

Canada gracefully marched over to where America's name was, and snatched it. The female nation had not let go of his hand, and Canada was not in the mood to give hers up either. Lest, of course, she be left without someone to protect her.

He quickly switched her name with Lebanon, who would have been sitting next to him. Oh well. Those two countries could get along just fine without Canada or America. She squeezed his hand, alerting him that someone was coming. Canada moved them to their 'seats' and made certain to stand where he could see who would be coming through the door.

Luckily, it was Greece, and Canada only had to shoot him a decidedly terrifying glare, before the country settled into his own place. As the others began to trickle in, Canada moved his chair close to America's, and she in turn did her best to appear as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Though Canada's violet gaze caught sight of her clenching her thighs together, and occasionally she had to shift.

As an Alpha, he was aware of what sort of scent America was making, and other Alphas were beginning to notice it as well. However, his scent did allow for a sort of barrier between the sweet smell of heat and figuring out it was coming from the star-spangled nation.

As more countries filtered in, the more agitated he became. It was to the point that America tried to calm him by placing her hand on his knee in support. The gesture was helpful, but only a little.

The meeting started with very little preamble.

Canada was glaring at every Alpha in sight. Which was quite a lot of countries. Most were put off by his sudden hostility, others had no idea what had made him so upset. A few of his closer allies kept glancing at him every few minutes, half afraid he would beat them to death with their own shoes. When, of course, they could be pulled away from their biology to think about why he was acting so strange.

It was the scent that was distracting the Alphas. The sweet tang of a nation, ripe for the taking, filled the room. Slowly, but steadily, the scent did not go away. It was covered by the various perfumes, colognes, and different brands of detergents. However, the sweet smell could not fully be covered, and it was driving the Alphas half insane. Nearly every one of them wanted to know which Omega was in heat.

The only problem was, there were multiple Omegas, Betas, and Alphas present. Each Alpha was attempting to locate the source of the scent, wanting to bury their nose in it and inhale the instinct driving pheromone. Yet, they could not pin point it.

Until, the person next to America, whom Canada glared at the hardest, become too curious. He leaned in and sniffed at the jacket America was wearing. Canada moved to stop him, but it was too late. He cursed himself for becoming momentarily distracted.

The single sniff undid the haphazard plan, nearly instantly. Canada scarcely had a moment to close his eyes against the knowing that they were about to get caught.

And... they did.

"Are you...?" The green-eyed country asked, before his gaze widened. "You are!"

America tried to shake her head to the negative, a disarming smile was on her lips. Canada was ready to pull her closer to him.

"America is an Omega?!" Said, rather loud, country shouted out with excitement.

Dozens of heads swiveled in her direction. Eyes ranging from shock, to amusement, to irritation.

Oh...

Oh shit.

Canada was getting ready to take someone down if they came to close, abandoning the original plan of keeping America close. It was truly for her safety. This could turn out very poorly.

America sighed heavily, and instead of taking a running start or attempting to flee, she merely grinned widely.

"Ya caught me." She admitted easily and several jaws dropped.

Canada stared at her as if she had lost her God-Damned mind. However, this seemed out of character for America to just lay all her cards on the proverbial table. He knew something was up the moment America flashed him a look that clearly stated 'I am so sorry'.

She cleared her throat, catching the attention of the now riled personifications.

"Uh... Canada and I are mated." America blurted out quickly, covering up the fact that their best attempts -of a doomed situation anyway- had been blown sky high.

"What?!" Was the nearly instantaneous reaction from the majority of the world.

Not only had they dropped a huge drama bomb about The United States being an Omega, but now said Omega was mated to her neighbor Canada? The quietest and nearly most docile Alpha the world knew? Of course, at the moment, he looked ready to pick out their bones with his teeth...

So, it did lend some credibility to the whole lie.

"You heard her." Canada said with finality and a hinted warning to drop the subject.

"We didn't want to say anything," she rushed out quickly, "because some of you have arrangements with Canada that are not allies of me. And, we did not want you to feel as if you had to choose."

That sounded... well, reasonable, actually.

"Oh," Lebanon interjected, nodding in agreement. "That makes perfect sense. Allow me to congratulate you!"

Canada placed a protective arm around America, trying to smile but it came off more as a feral baring of teeth. America smiled brightly.

"Thank you!" She beamed at the other Alpha.

Canada subdued a growl in his throat. She was not supposed to be paying attention to another Alpha. Some part of him greatly disagreed with that. On... principle or some such other elegant non-sense.

Germany coughed, looking flustered and embarrassed. His blue eyes darted to America every so often, and Canada bristled internally over the fact that there was a bit of desire in his gaze.

What the hell? Did some of these countries have a crush on America? That was absolutely...

Canada glared at Germany. Who had the grace to appear embarrassed, and if Canada's eyes did not deceive him, a little disappointed as well.

"Then, with that understanding, perhaps... you should take America home, Canada."

He nodded stiffly. That wasn't a bad idea at all. He grabbed America's hand as she sputtered, glancing about as the other nations began gossiping and the few exclamations of 'I knew it!' that were crowed happily from the back.

America hurried to keep up with Canada as he dragged her out toward the parking garage.

"Well," she started feeling greatly subdued and a bit antsy. "That did not go like we planned."

"Planned?" Canada half-growled. "We didn't plan a damn thing, and..."

"I'm sorry," the Star-spangled nation cut in. "For getting you mixed up in all this. I really am."

That deflated his ire slightly, but only by a small fraction. His violet eyes glanced back at her through his glasses.

"I know."

She gave him a soft and regretful smile. "You can say it didn't work out in a few weeks or months, and then everyone will forget."

He slowed to a halt and turned toward her.

"Say what?"

America eyed him curiously. She tilted her head, as if she wasn't certain which part he did not understand. Canada understood just fine. It was America that didn't.

"You can say our mating didn't work out and-"

He started laughing, effectively cutting her off from what she was about to say.

"Didn't work out? What is it you always say? Ah yes. 'Darlin' we're just getting started'."

Her blues eyes widened, and Canada cupped the back of her head as he pulled her into a searing kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

**I own nothing. I earn nothing from this. Author does not claim ownership to characters/sayings/ ideas herein.**

**Also, keep in mind, that things/beliefs were a lot different in the 1500-1600's. So Canada freaking out about Romania would actually make sense. **

**Enjoy!**

OoOoOo

She had to admit, that sometimes France really did hold his ground.

America had, in some not so friendly language peppered with fluent Louisiana Cajun, warned France off of going near Canada until he was all better. Some of her threats were far more... well planned than others. Attempts to remind America that France had taken care of Canada the first time around, were summarily ignored and filed in the 'don't care' box.

Which was then promptly set on fire and the windows opened to scatter the ashes.

Proverbially speaking, of course.

Russia had even been bold enough to offer to care for little Canada. It had not gone over well. Oh yes, America was politically cautious about her response, and thanked him for his generous offer. There were people that claimed America could be intimidating, but Russia had never glimpsed the psychotic gleam in her eyes that she leveled at him before. Not even during their hostilities. He saw it now. It had the larger nation pausing as America chuckled at him as if he had told a joke. It made him very uncomfortable.

For a single moment, America reminded him far too much of his Sister when she had been... overly enamored with him.

In short... she was _damn _terrifying. And, he wasn't so certain that a person's head should be able to turn that far, that slowly.

He had quickly decided against trying to offer to care for Canada again, and chose to accept the political brush off. Belarus made a comment of approval at how America stared at anyone that neared little Canada, which only further made Russia uncomfortable, but Belarus gave the slightest smile to America.

With strong but gentle hands, she scooped Canada closer to her, holding onto him as she stood. Her blue eyes flashed behind Texas, and Nantucket was less of a cowlick and more like a sharp protrusion from her head. As, if the lock of hair signaled to the rest of the world that America was no playing around today.

Romania saw it too, and started to slowly exit out of the meeting room, before turning to run. It was too late, America saw him,

She had wasted no time in apprehending Romania by the back of his suit jacket. There were no words needed to convey the 'fix it now' glare she leveled at him. Canada peered at the male nation curiously, glancing between him and America.

"What manner of man is this?" Canada asked, with his little cheeks turning slightly pink as his eyes narrowed at the overly familiar way in which America had accosted the male.

"A dead man," America muttered darkly.

Canada, no remembering the events from before his change, took her words as a literal meaning and scrambled down to get ready to defend her against this devil-being. Canada gasped, drawing on all his courage. His violet eyes could comprehend it now, the man had pointed teeth!

A true sign of his wicked pact with the devil!

Little Canada looked around for some sort of weapon to slay the beast, as America glowered down at Romania. Canada would hurry without delay, America was in danger.

The male nation grinned at the Star-spangled one nervously.

"America," he said a bit gloomily.

"Romania?" America asked in a low and dangerous voice as the initial shock of what had happened had worn off. His name, said that way, encompassed what she was really asking him.

"I think I can fix it," he blurted out with a charming look about his features.

America wasn't falling for it. He only tried that when he got into trouble or wanted something. He might want his freedom from her wrath, be he wasn't getting it yet.

"You _think_ you can fix it? Or you can fix it?"

He winced. "Well, it should wear off."

"When?"

"Two to three...months."

"What?"

A small hand tugged on her skirt.

"Stand back America!" Canada declared with his tiny chest puffed up and his violet eyes were determined.

His warning was a tad too late, as the Star-Spangled nation registered the cold splash of water that poured over them. She blinked, and startled a bit to see Canada holding what looked to be a large bowl of water, with only half of the contents gone.

"Be gone foul hell-bound familiar!" Canada's adorable voice squeaked out as various other countries flooded into the hallway and began to chuckle loudly.

America, however, was too busy trying to figure out what just happened.

"Uh?"

"Worry not, 'tis but holy water." Canada said with the sweetest smile she'd ever seen, and any smidgen of anger she might have felt melted away in an instant. But not her confusion.

Her blue eyes narrowed at him slightly, but she grinned anyway.

"Where did you get holy water?"

Just as she asked the question, she noticed Southern Italy was blushing and not looking at her. Ah. Okay. An Italy was involved. Enough said.

What?

"Uh?" America asked, by way of vocalizing her curiosity over what she was seeing. "What are you doing?"

Canada beamed at her.

"I am protecting you," he stated seriously with his large violet eyes watching her and a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

Aw!

It was then that Romania unwisely chose to mutter something that America didn't quite catch, but it seemed safe to assume it was not complimentary. She could have dealt with it just fine, however, Canada was _protecting_ her.

The things a hero had to do. She bit the inside of her cheek and glared at Romania for a moment. The male nation paled, and did not expect what came next.

"Canada, I think he is attempting to bewitch me." America drawled out with a great deal of effort not to start laughing as she clutched at her chest and batted her eyes.

There was an adorable growl of outrage as the shrunk nation tossed even more holy water on Romania, who sputtered.

"Be gone foul beast!"

OoOoOo

She'd been forced to apologize for the 'Holy water' incident. America had apologized on Canada's behalf too, though he was unaware of it. The Canadian government had been hesitant to leave their personification with America.

The full grown nation, that pitched a fit when her President said that Canada would stay with his people. She was already packing up her things, as countless higher ups in congress pleaded with her not to start an international incident.

Pfft. She wasn't going to do that. She had to keep Canada safe. There were way to many potential threats to him in this state. America had been going to get him anyway, but it seemed that Canada was just as unwilling to be separated from her.

However, the adorable boy had 'escaped' from those that were watching over him and someone managed to make his way to the border. It was impressive considering how much time had changed things. Little Canada had taken the surprises in stride, and his small legs had carried him all the way from his capital to the Border.

There, he had gotten into a bit of trouble, demanding to see 'America', which the humans had not understood and thought he had run away from home when he could not tell them where his family was. The Canadian forces were not amused when he attempted to 'Command' them.

Yet, Canada was not human, and when he truly raised a ruckus, he managed to spook the border patrol into calling their higher ups. Which had then been relayed to America. Who had promptly showed up to collect him.

Which had been sort of cool, if she said so herself, because it was more than a little fun landing a black helicopter and strolling out looking like a badass that shouldn't be messed with. Not that, she waited for such chances...

Much.

She had barely made it through the door to where they were holding him, when a little Canada, came rushing toward her. America caught him as he launched into her arms.

Some foolish, or very... _very_ brave solider tried to tell America to put him down. The Canadian soldiers might not have been afraid of American women before, but at the way America reacted to that simple statement caused them to shuffle back to the walls in terror. No one was hurt.

Therefore, both governments agreed that it would be less problematic if America stayed with Canada. Or at least, that was the way Canada put it and she did not correct him.

The pair spent their days doing some work, it was unavoidable, and they did the activities Canada had come to enjoy doing with America years ago. They fished, they watched movies -which had terrified Canada to begin with because he believed there were souls trapped in the Television-, and even attending meetings.

Whilst making shenanigans, of course.

Canada followed America everywhere, and she loved it.

He was like an adorable little duckling, and she cooed at him endlessly about how wonderful he was. Canada flushed to the roots of his hair and grinned at her shyly. She had been a little _insistent_ that she be the one to take him home and care for the nation, but Canada grabbed her hand and lead her around the meeting rooms as if he were keeping the other nations from getting to close. It was the sweetest thing ever.

But really, France did not have to cry that much over it.

And, the other nations learned not to even go near Canada's general vicinity. Especially not when America was watching them with that psychotic look, as if daring them to try something. She even walked with him to the bathroom, when he had the need during the meetings, and waited outside the door the whole time.

It was not ideal for the nations that were more shy. They had to hold the contents of their bladders for hours longer, because if they set foot in the hallway at the same time, America was right there. Ecuador was terrified of even going near the restrooms now, and he saw America in his nightmares. Nightmares, where she hissed at him like a feral cat, and threatened to eat him.

Oddly enough, the only nation that did not seem to get that reaction out of America was Belarus, who was allowed within five feet of Canada. But no more. There was a six-inch leeway. Belarus was aloud within five feet, but no closer than four.

There was a strange sort of understanding between the Female nations, and no one was foolhardy enough to ask either one of them what it was.

And, if America was protective of Canada, he was equally protective of her and her 'Honor'. What had been social decorum and acceptable back when they were colonies was, by far, different from what it was in the modern day. Anyone glimpsing at her neck was stared at harshly by the most adorable set of violet eyes possible. If a male approached America, he had to ask to be introduced by Canada first.

For America, there was a sense of nostalgia, and also Canada was just so darned cute like this she could not say 'no' to him. He was the little terror of the World meetings, and France would not admit that he was just near bursting with pride over how Canada even had England slightly cowed.

Out loud at least.

Also it was likely the threat of incurring America's wrath that kept England from taking Canada to task, or putting him over his knee.


	10. Chapter 10

**I own nothing. I earn nothing from this. Author does not claim ownership to characters/sayings/ ideas herein. This is to include Hetalia.**

**And, as always, Dear Canadian neighbors...**

**I adore you. :)**

**Enjoy!**

OoOoOo

"If it is _anyone," _England said with authority, "I would say Canada."

At that France nodded sagely. His features seemed steeped in bored agreement. In fact, it would have been appropriate to state that every nation present -that could hear them- agreed with England's decision. The murmurs said as much.

Everyone, of course, except America.

Her blue eyes narrowed behind Texas. They had no idea what the hell they were talking about. None. At all. It was obvious. She puffed out a breath in disbelief. Was she the only one that truly knew Canada? Really?

Well, maybe. It sort of made sense. To get to Canada -via land, at any rate- you had to go through the United States. And, if you went through America's land, every personification, she was well aware of it. Thus, was another reason she shook her head at The Netherlands.

Yeah. She knew what he had visited Montreal seven times in the past year. Something was up. She just wasn't sure what it was. Eh. America shrugged at her internal monologue. She'd figure it out later.

Southern Italy spared her a curious glance. He knew some of her little quirks, and because of that, he could tell that America did not agree with England. Though he was curious as to why. He leaned in toward her. She caught the subtle scent of well-made cologne that clung to his tanned skin.

"I take it that you do not agree?"

Nantucket swayed as she shook her head.

"Not in the slightest," she said softly, trying not to catch unwanted attention. Angry European attention. Her least favorite kind, honestly.

"Why?" Southern Italy asked, equally as quietly, though America could tell it was almost against his will to ask the question. However, he was a curious nation, and she understood how that went.

"Canada is_ so_ not that innocent," America whispered lowly behind a document.

Southern Italy nodded, in a barely perceptible fashion, as he continued to look bored at the new concern being voiced at the front of the room by Greece. Southern Italy's warm brown eyes glanced at America briefly as he quirked a brow in question.

'How so?', the gesture read. Or maybe it was 'Oh really?'

The Star-spangled nation snorted softly. Her blue eyes gazed at her Northern Neighbor, who admittedly did appear to be the picture of calm and undefiled sweetness. It was a very good look on him. America was aware of that. Then, likely because he could feel the weight of her stare, Canada turned to smile at her.

What a crock of shit.

She'd prove he was just as bad as the rest of them.

"Just you watch," she promised lowly as France leaned in to whisper something to Canada. The Northern nation replied something which America could not read his lips for. It was likely in French. God Dammit!

Southern Italy leaned on his elbows and whistled softly to catch her attention. America glanced his way, with a questioning look on her face.

"And, how, _cara amica_, do you plan to do that?"

The Star Spangled nation paused, and then a smile blossomed on her rather pretty features. One that nearly seemed to glow with impish intention as America had a wonderful idea.

A wonderfully, naughty idea. One that would rock the world meetings for one hundred years to come.

OoOoOo

A flight to Canada, for the meeting that followed, cost her about $500.00

Worth it.

The hotel room had been another $400.00 for the duration of her stay.

Still worth it.

The cab ride over was about $23.00.

Her way of bringing an end to his faux innocent facade? Well, that cost about $4.00. Cold hard American Dollars- well, the Canadian equivalent of, at any rate-. All four of them. At the Airport terminal in Montreal. The cashier was rather nice, and when she was done bringing down Canada, she would compliment his people to his face.

However, the time for that would come later.

America strutted into the meeting with her head held high, and a dazzling smile. Her modest business attire did not catch many eyes, except that of Southern Italy who looked faintly more amused by her arrival than he had been when she walked in the door.

The Star Spangled nation seemed to ooze a sense of demureness that made England pause as she passed him and sat down without preamble. His green eyes wandered over her appearance with a small amount of shock. Not that America was not modest before, but now she looked very similar to the gentle young colony he had found in the tall grasses so long ago.

While England was busy getting lost in memories, America was waiting for Canada.

She'd show 'em.

France found his way to his seat. Where France was, Canada was never normally far behind. She internally grinned in a feral manner. Outwardly she gave a soft smile and with a gentle grace she pushed back a lock of hair behind her ear.

She placed her briefcase on the table and opened it leisurely. America removed a sheet of paper and a pen. Quickly she jotted down a note for Germany, and handed it to Northern Italy as he passed by. The auburn-haired nation took it gladly and nearly skipped to Germany's side.

Perfect.

America also opened the small package that was hidden inside. She unwrapped it, so that the crinkling would not bother anyone later.

Her blue eyes flicked up, and from behind Texas, she spotted Canada as he entered. Wonderful. He was right on time. She hummed softly to herself for a moment.

"America?" Germany called out and several nations quieted from their comfortable chatting.

"Yes?"

"It is fine. " He replied, alluding to her note.

"Oh thank you!" She said, beaming at him. Germany flushed slightly and looked away as he called the meeting to start.

OoOoOo

It was the movement. That was what caught his attention.

The way that America was licking the leaf-shaped maple lollipop. Canada's eyes widened as he watched her devour it slowly. Languidly. As if she could not be rushed from the enticing taste. The Northern male nation cleared his throat, trying not to gape at how suggestive it was.

She was laving his emblem with her pink tongue. It brushed along every grove of the leaf as she pushed it further into the moist cavern of her mouth.

Canada's wide violet gaze was glued to her. America gave a soft hum as she worked her tongue around the tip of the leaf-shaped maple lollipop. Her pink lips closed around it as her eyes slid shut for a moment. Her mouth worked over the sweet candy with a gentle passion.

Then America opened her eyes, blue eyes clouded with what could have been desire. Her gaze met Canada's as she slowly slid the candy from her mouth. She watched as he swallowed heavily. Her tongue darted out, licking a path from the bottom to the top.

It was, frankly, nearly indecent. The way she sucked, licked, and enjoyed the innocent lollipop. Her expression was nearly rapturous.

Her blue eyes met his, and then she did something that he had never seen her do before. She leveled a provocative look at him. America allowed her eyes to wander over his figure, and her lips curled around the sucker briefly. She then took more of it in her mouth, as she stared at him.

He felt his heartbeat quicken.

She pulled the lollipop from her mouth, her lips caressed it on the way out. Then she licked her lips, her tongue removed the last bit of sticky sweetness, as America watched him with a carnally hungry expression.

Canada shifted, unable to bear the tightness that stirred in his loins. Unfortunately for Canada, France had noticed his lack of concentration. Which meant that France had noticed Canada, watching America. And, vice versa. His blue eyes flicked from Canada to America as she slowly leaned her elbows on the table.

Though she was dressed modestly, it was not difficult to know that beneath that blouse was a bosom that even France had dreamed about before. So, when his keen eyes spotted the straining bulge that Canada was sporting, he was rather surprised.

Well, he was both Surprised and not. America was an attractive country, and she was certainly giving Canada the 'go ahead' signals. However, he could not contain the shock he felt that innocent little Canada... Canada... was...

"_Cher Dieu! Le général est prêt pour la bataille!"_ France exclaimed, with wide eyes.

The pair of French speaking nations stilled, and France tried to recover by closing his mouth with an audible 'clack'.

Canada flushed to the roots of his hair, attempting to cover the obvious evidence of his arousal.

From across the room, America stood as all eyes rounded on her. She chuckled softly, and tossed the lollipop in the trash. Vaguely smug as Southern Italy hid his amusement. Though the other nations did not fully understand what had happened.

They only saw America smiling, France looking apologetic, and a blushing Canada.

OoOoOo

He followed her to the rooms designated for the United States of America. The Northern nation was unfailingly polite in the way he actually let them get in the door and close it before he turned on her. His innocent look faded into a nearly enraged expression, which did not fluster her at all.

It was actually... a little exciting, when he was like this.

"America!" Canada said, looking furious. "What you did-"

"What I did?" She asked with feigned innocence, "what did I do? I had a lollipop. You're the dirty minded-"

"You did that on purpose?"

"What are you talking about?"

His violet eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"I am not an idiot. You expect me to believe it was a coincidence that you had to have a maple lollipop?"

Her mouth curved into a secretive smile.

"Oh? Is that what you are mad about? That it was maple?"

"What? No! I-"

"Did you want some? Here," America interrupted as she grabbed him forcefully, "I'll let you have a taste."

Then she pressed her lips to his, the faint taste of maple was shared by the pair as Canada fell into the passionate kiss for all he was worth. His mouth slanted over America's again and again. Their tongues swirled around and stroked each other with a fiery, but unspoken arousal.

The sounds of heavy breathing mixed between them, as they tried their best to nearly consume each other. America's arms twined around his neck, and she pressed closer to him. Canada's hands were already ghosting up past the hem of her shirt. His hands were nearly burning her up. He was like heat personified.

Every part of him seemed to make her feel a little dizzy, but America was greatly enjoying the sensation. He guided her to the nearest solid surface where she could not escape from him, though America did not want to. The wall hit her back, and she allowed her head to lull back with a dull thud.

Canada' smooth was on her neck, and shoulder. He gave little nips that caused her to shiver in excitement. Slick arousal pooled between her thighs. Holy hell. Who would have thought that Canada could be like this?

Oh wait. America had thought that. She moaned as his hand snaked upward to slip underneath her bra. His fingers ghosted over her nipple, which pebbled under his touch. The Star-spangled nation panted heavily.

Her body had a mind of its own, and it tried to climb on the male that was eliciting such a strong response. America gave a soft mewl as his mouth captured her once more. Then her feet were off the ground, Canada's strong hand were around her waist and lifting her up.

Then someone closed a door, not far from them. Their panting quieted nearly instantly. However, that did not mean they could not continue to fondle each other.

Or at least, that was how America saw the situation.

Canada stilled, trying to keep America hidden from view, as they listened for whoever it was to not stumble in and find them. She was impatient as she kept wiggling against a stiffer part of Canada. One that did not have to do with the stress that came with the possibility of being walked in on.

"America," he groaned hotly in her ear. "Stay still." 

Her blue eyes darkened as she nipped at his neck. She was trapped between the coolness of the wall and the heat of Canada's body. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, and if these damned clothes could get out of the way, then she could actually relieve some of the sexual tensions he was feeling.

"I can't," she confided softly as she continued to wiggle against him.

His violet eyes flashed intently.

"If you don't stop, I'll-"

"Please say the next sentence out of your mouth is going to be something along the lines of 'I'm going to give it to you'." She interrupted as she felt a sense of frustration at having to wait for some relief to her... predicament.

Whoever it was, must have been looking for something, for there came the sound of drawers opening and closing in the room next to them. Faint cursing could be heard. America wasn't really paying much attention to the unknown nation. She was far too busy with focusing on Canada.

Naughty, naughty... Canada.

"Why did you bring that lollipop?" Canada asked huskily, embarrassment still obvious upon his cheeks.

America shrugged, with a glassy-eyed expression.

"Can't remember," she said before pulling at his shoulders. "Now shut up and kiss me."

"But we could get caught!"

"Don't care." Her blue eyes seemed to sparkled with desire, lust, and a deep seeded fondness for the man that sometimes drove her nearly insane.

"Well," Canada snapped back in a whisper with a flushed face. "I do."

America laughed quietly, as she moved a hand from behind his neck, to the zipper on his pants. Texas glinted under the florescent light, she placed a kiss on his collarbone. He could not stop her hand from reaching inside to free his hard length.

"Give me a minute or two, and I promise... you won't care either."

Canada swallowed heavily. His violet eyes showed that he believed her.

OoOoOo

When America arrived at the meeting, she was three minutes late. However, she did not miss the maple lollipop that was innocently placed at her seat. Her brows rose in surprise, but as her gaze moved to Canada, she found he was watching her intently.

The Star-Spangled nation blushed when Canada winked at her.

She knew he was just as bad as the rest of them. She smiled seductively, as she opened the confectionary treat.

As her lips closed around the tip of the lollipop, blue eyes met violet in an a blatant invitation. And, America did not fail to notice that Canada made no attempt to hide the fact he was watching her.

_Pervert._

And, not so secretly, she loved that about him.

OoOoOo

**Translation**

_**Cher Dieu! Le général est prêt pour la bataille!**_ : Dear Lord. The General is ready for battle. (Reference to Canada's arousal)


	11. Chapter 11

**_This Author does not lay claim to characters or ideas contained herein. This is not for profit or other material benefit. Rated M. _**

**_Dedicated to those that wanted a continuation of Chapter 6. Also, I am not taking it to heart (BUT THANK YOU for the uplifting words), I just wanted an angst piece for this. And, the truth is that Canada and America have a complicated past. Though I love you Canadians and your awesomeness. _**

"_Morocco was the first sovereign nation to recognize the United States of America in 1776. American-Moroccan relations were formalized in a _**1787 treat****y**_, which is still in force and is the oldest unbroken bilateral treaty in American history."_

**_I own nothing, please enjoy. _**

**_OoOoOo_**

He tip-toed around her, looking for the slightest indication that she felt anything toward him anymore. Even the tiniest bit of good will, Canada would gladly take now. America scarcely glanced his way. He was all but cast into the icy unknown of the cold shoulder she leveled at him.

The worst part, was that he wasn't entirely certain she was actively ignoring him. He might have just mattered that little to her now. America, with her wide and benign smiles, hurt him somehow. Or maybe it was the guilt that threatened to swallow him whole. He'd never witnessed it before. No, that wasn't accurate. He'd witnessed it, he just hadn't put it all together before.

Canada was normally far more observant, but it was as if he were watching a deep and philosophical documentary. America was rebuffed nearly continuously through the meeting. He swallowed the bitter tang of stomach acid as it bubbled upward. The way the European nations treated her with heavy suspicion and dislike.

The way her enemies openly touted how they would destroy her, as she remained mute to the taunts. Unmoving. Seemingly, uncaring. Her blue eyes never looked away, and her spine never slouched. She stood tall before it all. A wall of nearly stoic American understanding.

He'd done some reading on the subject. Her women were considered terrible. too demanding, not pretty, overweight, trash, ect. The list went on and on, from several sources. Some of them even slandered Canadian women. Of which Canada was highly displeased by.

Her men were not bold enough, but to others, far too bold. Her politics weren't to be trusted. It seemed as if people enjoyed disliking her so. In a twisted way, she seemed to be a great unifier when it came to that. America moved through the room as if it did not bother her.

Yet, he could see the hardness in her eyes. The stamp of unhappiness about her mouth as her smiles seemed more and more as if they were only to keep up appearances. Angry gazes followed her. Gazes that didn't care if she lived or died.

_'You wouldn't be the first, and you certainly won't be the last.'_ That is what she had told him. For some reason those simple words, stated nearly stoically, were tearing him apart. As did the vague disappointment his mind insisted that he had seen in her face.

The hurt.

America did not speak to him, unless she was told to do so. Her President had to actually insist she come to this latest meeting, though technically her place here was only a token courtesy. Not truly required, she was only being 'kept in the loop'.

Worst of all, he was seated across from her. So he could see every detail in the way her blue eyes flickered to the main speaker, but never once to him. She used to... she used to joke with him. At the worst possible times. Like a child on the playground who only had one friend, and wanted to share everything with them.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. Is that what he had been for her? The one friend? The country that made the rest bearable? He didn't... Canada did not hate America. It was just that she was impossible to ignore. Everything she did or failed to do effected him somehow. An easy target that was too large, too powerful, too influential to ignore. Though he had tried before.

The Northern nation leaned his head against his hand and simply watched her.

Her gaze flared slightly, and he knew she could feel his eyes on her, but America did not look at him. Instead she jotted down notes, or remained silent. Even when she was even-tempered or dare he say... calm...

Canada was worried by her. Though she had not actively done anything at all. America turned her head to the left, as someone must have nudged her for her attention. Romania pointed to Canada, but still the Star-spangled nation did not look at him. She smiled brightly, overly bright -he thought-, and shook her head gently.

His violet eyes narrowed and he was the one to stare down at the table in mute wonder. He knew she was upset by his words. He could sense it, feel it keenly. How long had America been beside him? Geographically speaking of course. For as long as they had existed.

So yes, he knew all there was to know about her. Except this. This strange and foreign _nothing_, that came from her. For the first time in his life, America seemed utterly unreachable. As if she had sequestered herself off somewhere far away, and it made him slightly even more worried... that she might never return.

OoOoOo

Politically, Canada is as secured with America as he has ever been. His Prime Minister repeats that for the eleventh time in as many months.

Still, something is nagging at the back of his thoughts. Nagging so much that it is painful and sounds vaguely of England. Canada turns a gentle look toward where he knows the border to be. The one that separates there two countries far less startlingly than the distance between them emotionally.

One he was not particularly proud of. England was of no help, having been unable to truly patch up his own problems with America on a personal level.

Canada had tried to speak with her twice, but America only kept it on topic. Polite conversation that was far too in line with what nations would speak of. Nothing about spending time together. Her Blue eyes had never seemed so cold before. Perhaps, they truly were like the sky.

America was the first to leave the table, briefcase packed already, as if she could not wait to get away from them all. Canada hated the way it made a pit of guilt pool in his stomach. The gentle Northern Nation opened his mouth, before he could think better of it.

"America!" He called out, and she stilled. Her face was a blank mask and she finally turned her eyes on him. Eyes that looked as disinterested and aloof as they had since that day. The hated false smile that stretched at her mouth was back in full force.

"Yes?" Her single word reply is nothing to be upset over, but it does bother him. The word is uncaring, bland, and simply... weary.

The spectacled male internally flinched. He was prepared to deal with her anger, her sadness, even her backlash for his words. But, in the face of her indifference, he did not know what to do. They had been friends. Or at least, as close as some nations could be to friendship.

America had thought so, after reflection, Canada could see it too.

"About.. about that thing last year-"

Nothing flickers in her eyes. No recognition either way. There isn't a flare of anything. She stares at him blandly. Not even bothering to interrupt him this time.

"I," he paused trying to hash out the things he wanted to say. Anything to make this awful distance go away. Canada...

He missed her.

As crazy as it sounded, and it was nearly unbelievable to his own mind, he truly missed her. America had never seemed so very far from him before.

"I wanted to speak with you. There has been a distance in," he paused, unsure of what to say. "Our... friendship."

He hopes the words will reach her. Make her understand that he didn't mean that he didn't want _anything_ to do with her. Because she had certainly given him that in Spades. America the personification, could have been a ghost for all that Canada sees of her outside of meetings.

Their interactions were limited and even then, often cut short. Work related matters, she would say by way of excuse.

Blandly, she nods

"Of course. Schedule a time with my secretary," she replies and her tone is only filled with formality. Her blue eyes clash with his for the briefest of moments, before she walks away from him again.

Even though she has agreed to speak to him, Canada does not feel any better.

Because she doesn't even have the decency to throw his words back in his face. To rail at him or howl in anger. America doesn't cry over his rejection of her.

No, she treats him like a stranger.

Sweet and Gentle Canada... _hates_ it more than he can ever say.

OoOoOo

Her secretary said there was no time in her schedule until December. Their combined favorite month, once upon a time. However, Canada is undeterred by the way America nearly seems to be trying to discourage him.

She hasn't set foot in his country in over a year. Canada knows, he's checked. America won't come. And, something so simple, as her not even willing to enter his land...

It stings.

He wants to set things to rights. He does. Though, even to Canada, the reasons are not fully understood. Therefore, he settled upon going home. He made his way through the other nations, intent on going to the parking garage.

When he sees, across the distance as he was staring blankly ahead, something that could not be. But it was.

He stopped dead in his tracks. His heart clenched so tightly that he nearly feels dizzy. Canada panted a breath at what he saw. Violet eyes widened in shock and pain.

Morocco was patting America's shoulder, offering comfort in the physical as well as saying something. Canada was too far away to make it out, but it would not have mattered. His blood was thundering in his ears, as the Northern Nation watched as America smiled at Morocco.

An honest smile. A small one that had the corners of her mouth turning up and the coldness thawed from her eyes. Nantucket drooped slightly, a sign of America relaxing.

It burned at Canada.

Nothing appeared romantic between the pair, but there was a friendliness in the manner by which she treated Morocco as opposed to the distance between her and Canada now. It was such a stark contrast that he could not ignore it.

He could read America's lips. His violet eyes were unable to tear away from seeing how her lips curved to form words which he did not like.

"Thank you," she said, though he could not hear it, "for being there for me."

How could she say that?

America had given those words to Morocco.

Words that should have been said to Canada. Shouldn't they have? He hadn't left her.

He hadn't!

So why, did it feel as if America was leaving him behind? They'd had cultural misunderstandings and differences in the past. It was not news. They had done far worse to each other publicly. But, then again, hadn't they always pulled the punches with each other?

Canada knew it did not make sense. America had invaded him. Twice! But, after their first problems, she was... rather fond of him. He was 'Canada', and that had been her way of explaining everything. Maybe he had missed what it was that he had meant to her.

And, as he watched the pair of nations speak briefly, he could only numbly stand there, wondering if there really only would ever be business between them ever again.


	12. Chapter 12

**_This Author does not lay claim to characters or ideas contained herein. This is not for profit or other material benefit. Rated M. _**

**_Soul mate stuff. The idea where you know your soul mate by the first touch of their skin on yours._**

**_Per Request!_**

**_I own nothing, please enjoy. _**

**_OoOoOo_**

He was by far, one of the greatest Hockey players that the Canadian Olympic team had ever seen. Mathew Williams, in all his glory, was a veritable nightmare of legends on the ice. For the longest time, he held his career as a lofty thing. For years, he was sought after and adored.

Until one tragic day, he suffered an injury that ended his career. Quite suddenly and quite simply. He went from fame and acclaim... to being forgotten.

Yet, Mathew was a gentle soul outside of competition. His smile drew many to him, as did his kind personality.

He found fulfillment in teaching small children the basics of Ice-skating. He also coached some potential hockey players on the side. It was more for the love of the game, than necessity. He also gave lessons to tourists upon occasion.

Such as today.

An American woman had called earlier in the week, and booked a time slot to learn the basics of Ice skating. He'd agreed and she'd paid for the private lesson in advance. Which he did appreciate. Mathew was already warming up, gliding gracefully with power and skill across the frozen rink. He glanced at the clock, out of habit, when it was five minutes till their appointment.

He saw her the moment the door banged open with more force than needed.

"Oh crap." The woman muttered as she slightly jumped at the loud noise.

She was dressed warmly, with a purple knitted cap on her head. She had blonde hair and glasses. He knew she saw him, for she made her way toward the ice. She looked slightly nervous. Many people were that way when they were trying something new.

"Hello," she called out with a slight wave.

His lips quirked into a polite smile.

"Hello," he returned easily. "Are you Amelia?"

"Yeah." She confirmed with a wider smile.

"I'm Mathew," he introduced himself as he skated toward her.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too. Ready to get started?"

"Uh.. yeah." The American said with much less enthusiasm.

He nodded toward the nearby bench. "Go ahead and put the skates on."

She looked at him as if he'd just asked her to tap dance with a live python. Mathew sighed internally.

OoOoOo

It was the longest forty-five minutes of his life.

"It's alright." He told her gently, as the American continued to have a death grip on the wall.

Her expression clearly displayed that she did not believe him for a moment. Mathew internally found it very entertaining. However, he was a professional.

With great misgivings, he saw that she slowly slid her foot forward. The gentle scraping sound of her blade on the ice, brought a wave of nostalgia over him. IN many ways, the American woman reminded him of the children he taught. Her face was so expressive.

And, if he wasn't mistaken, she was also pouting like they did.

"You need to relax."

"I'm gonna fall." She muttered, and her blue eyes stared at him balefully.

"Well , you-" He started to soothe, when she moved her other foot, and went tumbling to the ground. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep back a burst of startled laughter.

Okay, this was admittedly not the best start he'd had with a client.

Without a word, he smoothly glided toward her. Amelia was already trying to stand. He noted that she'd forgotten to wear gloves. Mathew was used to the cold, and it hardly bothered him. He also did not fall often, as she doubtlessly would. He waited patiently until she was standing, unsteadily, again.

Due to his kind nature, he reached for her hand to pull her along. Perhaps if he could help her experience the sensation of moving across the ice, she would relax.

Hands touched briefly. A single slip of his fingertip across the back of her hand. And, suddenly, he simply _knew._

Blue eyes filled his vision. The world shrunk out of existence, until there was only her. Honey-gold hair, and glasses. A surprised look on her soft features as they stared at one another. He could feel it, like a physical presence around his hand. As if a string was tightening between them, linking them together forever.

This was his 'one'. The one in all the world that was born just for him. And, he for her. Mathew's other half.

"I-" She started to say, but then her foot slid again, and she toppled to the ice with a 'thud'.

Mathew blinked, feeling very concerned that she had hurt herself. For she gave a heavy grown.

"Are you okay?!" He asked a touch more loudly than was needed.

Amelia didn't move. She simply laid there.

"Oh yeah," she answered after a moment. "Nothing's hurt by my pride, and a life time of delusional fantasies."

The Canadian man flushed slightly at her words. Yet, she seemed so miserable that he could only chuckle politely.

"Eh? It's not all bad."

She moved to sit, and flashed a sheepish grin at him. Her blue eyes looked down for a moment.

"Sorry," she said softly. "I always thought this would go smoother. And, would not end with me looking like an idiot. Well, I mean.. I thought it _might_ go this way, but then my friends said i was just being 'paranoid'"

He watched as she made air quotes around the last word. He also slightly adored the way she buried her red face in her hands and started muttering how 'terrible' this was going, under her breath. Mathew knew he was smitten, when she opened her fingers slightly to peak up at him with a shy glance.

He reached out his hand for her.

"Come on," The Canadian urged in a coaxing manner.

Nearly without hesitation, her she removed her hands from her face and reached for him. With infinite tenderness he helped her up, and kept her steady as she wobbled around like a new-born calf.

"Please don't let go." Amelia said looking down at the ice nervously. Her hands gripped his so tightly, he was half-afraid that he might lose some circulation in them.

"Never." Mathew promised. Feeling himself flush to match the red hue of her face.

It became fairly obvious that Amelia had very little aptitude for ice-skating. But, there was a small sense of wonder in his chest at how she trusted him to guide her around. More than once, he had her laughing, with a nearly uninhibited delight.

He smiled as she beamed at him.

"I'm doing it!" She exclaimed brightly.

Well, not really.

Mathew was keeping them both up, and from careening into the wall. However, he did not want to damper his soul mate's moment. Her eyes were shining, behind her glasses, and she was looking at him in a way that made his chest tighten. Mathew pulled her a bit closer, which was not professional at all. However, this _was_ his other half.

He wasn't sure if it was him or the cold that made her cheeks so red.

And, just maybe, he'd brought her to the center of the ice so she couldn't get away. Not that she looked like she was in any hurry to go. He searched his thoughts, wondering what her last name was again. She'd told it to him, and he knew it was so easy to remember but he was drawing a blank.

"Great job," he praised readily. HIs violet eyes were warm and kind. "How did you like your first lesson?"

Her brows rose in surprise.

"First lesson?" Amelia asked with confusion. "I only wanted one."

"I was hoping," he said mildly, "that you would be so impressed by your progress that you'd stick around for a bit."

He knew that she understood his subtle flirtations when she laughed softly, glancing at him with a nearly coy expression.

"Oh, is that so?" The American teased lightly.

"Of course," Mathew continued, feeling strangely emboldened by her next to him. He felt as if he was back in the height of his career. Fearless and strong.

He noticed that she didn't shift her weight, likely worried that she would fall again. Yet, she tilted her head to the side as if she was contemplating it.

"I don't know," she lamented with indecision. "You are pretty good, but... hm..."

Violet eyes watched the way her nose crinkled slightly as she pretended to think it over.

"Why don't you let me buy you dinner?" Mathew offered sincerely, with a slight smirk. "That will give you some time to think about it."

She grinned at him.

"Dinner? But I hardly know you." Amelia demurred sassily.

He laughed at that. Two pairs of eyes seemed to sparkle merrily at the presence of the other.

"I'm terrible at skating," she said out of nowhere.

"Oh, I know." Mathew agreed readily.

Amelia threw back her head and laughed, causing them both to fall to the ice.

"Stop trying to get me on my back," she teased as she continued to laugh so hard that he couldn't help but join her.

There was a moment of silence, as they tried to calm themselves down.

Mathew winked at her, flushing to the roots of his hair.

"Alright. I'll wait until after dinner."


	13. Chapter 13

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Hetalia, or any affiliated licensed ideas. _**

**_Per Request, If America was the one that shrunk and Canada wanted to protect her. Also, Borderline pedo France and England? _**

**_Not meant to cause offense in any way, shape, or form. :)_**

OoOoOo

Those that claim to know magic, ought to exercise some common sense. Canada thought that, at the very least. However, he hadn't been paying attention to the arguments between nations. It was only the loud cry of 'America to the rescue!' that caused him to turn his head.

He saw America charging into the fray, and shook his head. There she went again...

But the sudden explosion of smoke and light that rocked through the room, had Canada jumping out of his seat to check on his ally. His footsteps echoed through the resounding quiet that followed, slowing only at what he saw.

The smoke cleared, and in the center of some chalk ring that Canada could not recall being there a few minutes ago, a colony stood.

Canada's eyes widened. It was not just any colony. It was...

"A-America?!" England squeaked out loudly, his cheeks dusted pink at the sight. He was clearly gob smacked by the sight before him. He remembered those sun-kissed locks of gold, and the guileless blue eyes that stole his heart so many decades ago.

They were back. Looking around the world meeting, large and slightly frightened. Nantucket dropped a bit as her concern at her surroundings became obvious.

Bright blue eyes, widened even more -which seemed impossible to Canada-, as the young America caught sight of a large Slavic nation. Tears welled, as the girl poised like a deer caught in the headlights, right before she took off. America bolted directly toward said Slavic nation, causing the other nation's mouths to gape open.

A joyous cry burst from her lips.

"Mr. Russia!"

Said nation stilled, his normal dislike of America seemed to vanish as the colony hurtled herself at him. His large arms wrapped around her out of reflex and shock. He blinked down at the small child that seemed to nearly burrow into him.

Her face lifted up, to gaze at him, a happy and wide smile on her features.

"Sir!" She chatted animatedly. "It has been long since last we met. I am right heartily glad to see you."

Russia's pale cheeks flushed at her proclamation. A small, real smile crept onto his face as he looked down at the exuberant colony.

England was utterly dismayed at the sight. He knew that Russia and America had been very friendly toward each other in her youth, but to see it now was like an arrow into his heart.

Canada could not believe his eyes. Nor could he understand the subtle inklings of jealousy that were worming into his thoughts. His violet eyes blinked behind his glasses.

What was going on here?

"America!" England scolded.

Her back stiffened, and the little colony leaned back in Russia's arms to find the source. Her blue eyes landed on England's green ones and she gave a delighted squeal of excitement.

"England, Sir, you have returned!" America squirmed, trying to get out of Russia's arms,

Yet, the older and larger nation seemed reluctant to release her. She pouted softly.

"Pray tell Sir," America inquired up at Russia, "why do you not release me? I must go to my Sovereign nation."

She seemed to wait patiently for a moment. Then she laughed brightly.

"Please!"

Russia's cheeks darkened, but he nodded mutely at her request, relinquishing her to her freedom. She bounded, with her white night dress flowing around her, toward England.

For England it was like something out of a dream. America. Dear, Sweet, and virtually untouched America was bounding back into his arms. Granted, he had always envisioned this when she was a bit older... so that 'adult' activities could take place...

But he would take what he could get.

He knelt down, ready to grab her up as she ran past nations -clearly unaware of who they were-, and just as she was about to reach him, England's world tilted on its axis.

"_Ma chérie_!" France cooed at America loudly. "_Venez à votre Maître_!"

The colony paused, blinking at France in confusion and a bit of concern. England growled at him from his prone position on the floor.

"Sod off, you frog bastard!"

"Mr. France?"

America drew back, looking vaguely ill-at-ease. Violet eyes tore themselves away from their neighbor with some effort. It was then that Canada notice the small bit of drool around the corner of France's mouth. He was literally salivating over the thought of having a territory to call his own again.

The European nation started to bear down on the young colony. It was very reminiscent of the big bad wolf and little red riding hood. In Canada's opinion. France looked like he wanted to eat America up. Canada doubted that France would actually _hurt_ America. He might make some advances, which would make more sense to an older version of the Star-spangled nation.

Oh no. Canada's felt the prickling of jealousy spike painfully in his head. No. He was _not_ okay with this. Perhaps, he might have left well enough alone, and allowed America to stay where she was, but then she uttered something that caused a side of Canada to roar to life.

A side that had not been seen outside of war.

"I...I am frightened," America whispered with wide eyes.

To hear the tale, which would be told later in _great_ detail, Canada was likened to a demon. The way his violet orbs glowed with deadly fury was enough to have even the Italy brothers making the sign of the cross over them.

"_La toucher, et je vais déchirer vos bras off." _

France paled, and Canada stood tall and imposing before him. France could not quite believe his ears. Canada was... threatening him? No one had even seen him move, but somehow, he was a wall of protective Northern rage in front of a young America.

A young colony that was looking up at his back with a confused expression. Her tiny hand reached out and tugged at his pant leg.

"Pardon me, good Sir," the girl said softly, "but I do not believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance?"

Canada turned, his murderous expression melted into one of polite surprise. Infinite fondness was in his gaze, causing some mutterings amongst the other nations. A sharp glare was earned from Russia and England.

France's hands twitched as he noted that America had no problem touching the other nation. All he wanted was to express the same sort of affection for America! The darling, untouched, territory that could belong to him again. He'd regretted the Louisiana purchase for some time. He wanted his chance to be _close_ with the tender colony again.

"It's me... Canada." The Northern nation replied, realizing that he must look a great deal different from his younger self. His hand touched his chest briefly.

America tiled her head, Nantucket bounced as she did so, her eyes were wide but they narrowed as she looked over him. Her brow puckered in concentration. Her gaze wandered over his face, with disbelief etched in her features.

Then she seemed to hone in on his curl, and his violet eyes.

Canada smiled at her softly. He watched as the suspicion fell from her eyes, and she trembled a bit.

"C-Canada?" America gasped out with a loud laugh. "You have become a nation?" She asked in stark awe of him.

Canada had never felt quite so tall as he did when America was looking at him as if he hung the very stars themselves. A small hand covered her mouth as she burst into a fit of giggles. America circled around him, having already forgotten Russia, England, and France. She was very much a child in the way she eagerly grabbed his hand.

As she had done when they were small. Flickers of images passed before him, like a dream snapping into place. Pieces were missing, some were foggy, but he recalled being young and America was there by his side.

With smiles that showed how much she cared for him. His neighbor, his ally, his_ America_.

"Sir, sir," America chirped happily, "tell me, tell me all of it!"

Canada blushed softly. "Don't call me 'Sir'. America." He chided gently. His hand settled on the top of her head affectionately.

She appeared lost.

"Then what do I call you?"

"Yours," he muttered before he could stop himself. The world took a collective moment to gape at him.

But, the meaning back when they were younger was different than now. He was telling her he would be forever by her side, and he remembered what it was like to be so alone amongst giants that were far more powerful. When America and he had been innocent and first starting to exist, how she had clung to his side. In the times before war and mistrust.

The times when they had-

"Yes, well," England muttered as she pulled himself up and ruined the tender moment between the pair. "Given the circumstances, it is obvious that someone needs to look after America."

The Island nation drew himself up to his full height.

Canada glowered at him.

"No, it is not 'obvious'," The Northern nation muttered as he pulled America closer toward him. She did not protest in the slightest.

"What happened, exactly?"

America thought they were all speaking strangely, and she was blushing nearly red with the fact that she and Canada were holding hands. In front of _England!_ It was all highly improper, but she couldn't help the swell of sheer happiness that flittered about her heart. After all, Canada had just proclaimed them to be intended to one another just a few short days ago.

Though, America was still out of sorts. The world... felt different. Stranger. Colder. Somehow. However, in her thoughts, she felt comforted by the presence of so many known to her. America was beaming up at Canada, though he could not see it.

America always knew Canada was a gallant knight. Just like in England's tales by the fireside.

England flushed. He glanced to the side, but then his green gaze moved toward America. Staring at her as if she were something he dearly longed to hold again.

Canada glared at him, the jealousy clung tightly to his thoughts. There was no way he was letting England anywhere near America. He wasn't blind. Nor was he stupid. He knew England had different plans before America's war for independence. Before America nearly tore herself apart because she could not stop herself from rebelling.

Her people's will. Her will.

A war, more of a skirmish on England's side of things, that had caused Canada and America to square off against each other. When America had invaded and Canada had burned her capital to building to the ground. The look of betrayal on her face, that had been etched into his heart.

When the chance for their love had been cruelly taken away from both of them.

America had told him she forgave him. Yet, Canada had never truly believed the words. How could he? She'd never brought up the subject of their 'marriage' again. Canada had never been able to bring himself to ask her again.

So it had died. Withered on the vine of time, between them.

However, his gaze strayed down to the colony at his side, and he felt a rush of a thousand emotions pass through him. As if the sands of time were reversing for a few precious moments.

"There was a bit of a... discussion," England replied hesitantly, "Between myself and a few others."

Canada's gaze narrowed in on Romania and Russia that were looking away as if something had caught their interest. Norway took a cautious step away from Canada. Staring blankly ahead.

Culprits, Identified.

"A discussion?" Canada clarified lowly. Shifting forward a step, as France saw it was time to get out of the way again.

He made a move to beckon America over to him, but the shrunken Star-Spangled nation would not be enticed. Canada leveled a look at France, one that had the other paling and lifting his hands up in mock placation.

France had not given up on the sweet colony, just yet.

"Yes, a discussion," the Island nation retorted with mounting anger. "Now, would you kindly hand over America?"

"Would you kindly go to hell?" Canada questioned back.

America gasped at his side, and he made a motion for her to cover her ears. She declined. Russia frowned at Canada, who was slightly irritated that _someone_ thought they could ask him for America.

Other nations gaped at the exchange.

"I am America's-"

"Ally," Canada bit out. "As am I."

"Well, someone must watch over her-"

"I will."

Green eyes met narrowed violet. Canada was not backing down, which was so strange that England was at a loss of what to do.

"I can take care of the petite darling," France offered nearly lecherously.

Russia's hand mysteriously met France's face as he shoved him away from America. The young colony turned to beam up at the Slavic nation, as he flushed in delight. His fingers waggled in a 'Hi' gesture to America. She appeared confused and delighted as she mimicked the gesture.

"I will care of little Amerika." Russia rumbled out in a tone that stated he would get his way.

Canada turned his attention toward Russia with a deadly expression.

"No."

Russia blinked, surprised that Canada -who had always been so kind and welcoming- would act in such a manner.

"Amerika knows me," the larger nation insisted.

Canada was not amused.

"You have very strained relations. You aren't even allies."

America's blue eyes widened.

"Mr. Russia dislikes me so?" The colony questioned, looking crestfallen.

Russia went to reach for her, to soothe the adorable girl -because it was clear that she was unaware of what had transpired in the pas- and assure her that this would be a new start for them. Canada slapped his hand away, angrily.

"Do not touch her." He snarled.

Russia narrowed his gaze.

"You are making a-"

"You are partly responsible for America's current condition."

"It was an accident."

"I doubt her government will believe that." Canada stated coldly.

"Yes, don't be stupid," England interjected. "There is no way in hell America would be given to _you._"

Russia chuckled in a sinister manner, his demeanor shifted as he crouched down on America's level.

"Cover your eyes, little one._ Da_?" He smiled sweetly.

America blinked, and looked at Canada.

Just as the room devolved into chaos. Suddenly, everyone thought they had a claim over the sweet colony. Some had never known America in her youth, she had been well guarded and isolated as Canada had.

The other nations began bickering. England shouting loudly and cursing as others rallied back at him. They would not be so easily dismayed from 'watching over' an easily influenced colony. Out of the best of intentions for some, not so for others.

Russia looked more determined than Canada had recalled in recent decades. And then the punches started.

"What do you want?" Canada asked, turning to look down at America.

The younger version of his charismatic neighbor blinked at him.

"I would heartily enjoy a calm to descend upon the room," she answered without pause.

Canada laughed.

"Barring that, however," The young colony said, drawing up to her full height and blushing slightly, "I do not wish to be parted from you."

Canada felt his chest tighten nearly painfully at her admission. He remembered when they had been in love. But time, temper, and pride had torn them apart. The days spent shyly glancing at each other with proclamations of getting married.

He reached a hand for her, as the world around them seem to fade into nothingness. It felt like for all the world, that there was only he and America in this moment. Her smaller hand found its way into his, and his fingers closed around her skin.

"I'll protect you," Canada vowed with utter sincerity, his violet gaze locked with her familiar sky blue.

"Of that," America giggled merrily, "I have no doubt."

Then, Canada smiled, as he tugged her gently toward the door. His tender and kind self buried itself inside the protective fury that he found when he saw that other nations were watching America with overly-eager eyes. The gaze of people that might take advantage of her.

Canada was _never_ going to allow that to happen. This was his America. For better or worse. Even when she was a giant pain in his ass, a few times. However, she was still someone that Canada... cared about.

Hand in hand they walked out of the meeting, some nations plastered themselves against the wall in order to avoid his wrath. Canada had an aura about him that was highly suggestive that he would beat someone to death right then and there if they interfered.

It would take another twenty minutes, until those arguing noticed they were gone. By that time, Canada would be that much closer to keeping her safe. He placed a call to his government, warning them of what had occurred. He hated to cause a headache for his Prime Minister and Ambassador to the U.S.

Yet, he was not going to surrender America to them in her current and fragile state. Absolutely not.

Because then, they might keep him from seeing her. And, that was what Canada could not abide.

OoOoOo

"Damnit France," England hissed as they crept closer toward Canada's home.

They had decided to approach from the forest. It was the most tactically sound option. They knew Canada had taken America, the moment that England pried France from Russia's bruising grasp.

France knew Canada's home well, and England still had a spare set of keys from watching the place last summer. He rummaged through his pocket for the key, as they were within three hundred feet of the front door.

The plan was simple. Go in. Get America. Then England would toss France out of the air craft. France had a similar plan, in reverse of course.

A crack of thunder rang out, and suddenly the keys were ripped from England's hand.

The pair froze.

"Bloody hell, that stings," he snarled as he drew his hand back. The pair hunkered deeper into the tall grass. The trees offered them some cover.

"He knows we are here."

"Yes Frog, I got that."

"No need to be rude."

"I find I have every need, you blasted Euro-trash."

"Really, you are such a-"

A bullet rushed through a bit of bark near France's head. And the Nation paused in his whispered argument with England. The bark chunks rained down into his hair, and he was forced to muss it up to get them out.

"My hair." He moaned.

"Shut up!" England bit out.

"I'd turn around and leave, if I were you," a calm and dangerous voice carried on the breeze.

A decidedly, pleasant, and obvious Canadian voice.

England and France froze. Ice water seemed to be flowing into their veins by how quickly the tone chilled them to the bone.

"There is no point in hiding, I know where you are."

A patch of dirt just in front of them exploded, and caused England to cough.

"Sniper," England mouthed to France. With a hard glint to his green gaze.

"You got Finland to help you!?" France bellowed as another shot whizzed past him. He peered through the grass to see the figure standing on the porch. The glasses glinted in the light that shone behind him.

Canada did not even react to the statement. He continued to look completely at ease in the situation, as well as_ terrifying_.

"No," The gentle nation replied softly, lifting the gun at his side and taking aim.

France choked, moving backward, as did England.

Oh shit...

Canada was _serious._

"Now, I do believe you are trespassing," the larger nation continued easily. "So I will give you to the count of five to leave."

"Talk to him," England demanded.

"Come now, Canada!" France called out, scrambling for more cover. "Let's be reasonable, here. We all adore _Amérique-"_

The next shot barely missed him. Barely. Canada was growing tired of giving warnings.

"Could you have been more of a pervert with that tone?" England muttered angrily.

"Four!" Canada called out.

"What happened to one through three?" The Island nation demanded indignantly.

"I deducted time for Trespassing." Canada countered.

"We were already trespassing." France reminded him.

"Good point. Five!"

The pair of nations high-tailed it out of there, as the Canada decided he more than enough ammo to spare. He stopped after a few moments, waiting to see if they would try again. He'd be here. And he would be waiting.

Horny bastards...

"Canada?" A sleepy America questioned from the front door.

He let his aggression fade quickly as he turned to grin at her.

"Yes, America? Did I wake you?"

Blue eyes met his violet gaze.

"What is going on? I heard loud noises." She glanced at the riffle in his hands.

He kept the most amazing poker face, as he drew closer.

"Wild moose." He lied with straight face. "Always a problem this time of year."


	14. Chapter 14

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Hetalia, or any affiliated licensed ideas. _**

**_Thank you my lovely reviewers. They have not fixed the problem of stories being stolen by mirroring sites, so... I will not update frequently. _**

**_Not meant to cause offense in any way, shape, or form. :)_**

**_WARNING... YANDERE CANADA. Dark story. Kinda warped. _**

OoOoOo

Brightness is blinding. Or at the very least it can be.

She learns that when she wakes, feet tingling with an itch that doesn't abate. Her blue eyes flicker behind her lids, rapidly moving as she comes to awareness. The stale and musty air was heady with the cloying scent of rot and mold. Her throat is painfully dry, as parched and cracked lips open in a gasping but silent cry. America draws a rasping breath. It is almost too much as her stomach clenches painfully.

The world tilts, her brain rebelling against the overwhelming sensation of nausea. Her burning throat seems to simmer in the bile that threatens to spill. Her stomach heaves, and her eyes prickle with tears even though she cannot seem to move. Her body is heavy. Unnaturally so. Her brain sluggishly attempts to process what is happening. There is a heightened sense of adrenaline and fear that thrums through her veins.

Something is _terribly_ wrong.

America does not know what it is. Her thoughts scatter, much to fuzzy and hard to pull back into the hard lines of reality. Each prickling sensation of pain and heaviness that scrapes across her flesh makes the blurry images go in and out of focus. Heat. She senses heat as it descends upon her body. Or, perhaps, it was always there. Cocooning her despite the mildew scent laved thickly around her. Hints of earth and... _something_ else assault her and her stomach heaves once more. Angrily jarring the sensations into a culminating wave of pain.

America softly groans.

There is a hum, as if someone has taken notice of her. A slightly gruff note on the end that rattles through her ears. The noise is so slight, but deafening all the same. Against her thoughts and will, she groans again. The pain rolls through her stiff muscles that do not respond to the simple thought that she _has_ to move.

_Move._

Frustration. Yes, that is what she is feeling as her thoughts continue to slosh around inside her head.

"Finally awake?"

The voice is deceptively pleasant, just bordering on musical or even lyrical to her ears. But... it _hurts._

The vague wisps of familiarity breeze over her. America knows this voice. She is certain she does. Her brow puckers, even that small act causes a rolling boil of nausea and she makes noises akin to a wounded animal. Dying from disease. The dry heaving is unpleasant. It sends hammers to her brain and they dance the waltz around her temples.

A dry tongue flicks slowly out to attempt to coat cracked lips in vain. Her mouth feels as if it has been stuffed with cotton and the height of the dry season in an arid desert.

Air pushes into her lungs, abrupt and stinging. Her blue orbs glaze slightly with tears that never truly form. Her body pulsates with a need.

Water. She needs water.

"W...w...wh-" America beings. The act of speaking is hard. The bitter and acid taste of acid is at the back of her throat. No. She wants the cool and refreshing refuge of water.

Whoever is there, male by the sound of him. Hums again. In acknowledgement, her sluggish mind decides after a heartbeat or two. She can feel the vibration of his footsteps. Her muscles tighten in protest as part of her begins to resurface.

Where was she?

Blue eyes squint into the dying light that blinds her momentarily. She bites back a hiss of discomfort. Pain and the alien feeling of being unable to control her body overtakes her thoughts. Decades, centuries, of political play and wars...they tell her what she feels she already knew. She's been _drugged._ But... by what? America doesn't think it truly matters. It will not kill here, whatever it is. Whoever is doing this has used an extravagant amount of it as well. A part of her brain prods at her, trying to place the voice from before. It is dark, sinister, and oddly cultivated. Refined and civilized.

A hot breath ghosts over her cheek, and America startles as much as she is able. Her muscles coil tightly, trying to come back to life as she wills herself to throw off the chemical shackle that has held her fast. She can't see. Not really. Her senses are dulled, like an rusty blade. America blinks her eyes, feeling the gritty sensation that comes form beneath her eyelids.

She feels the cool and smooth press of a glass against her chapped lips. Logic dictates, what she can slap together in the haze, that she should not open her mouth. With a flare of defiance she clacks her teeth closes. Her skull rattles with the effort. The hammers waltzing on her brain soon turn into jackhammers. She does not regret the action, but she pays a price for it.

"Drink," the voice commands.

A gurgle of a protest wrenches from her abused throat.

A deep and unamused chuckle works its way to her ears. She feels her chest vibrate from the noise. Her body shivers in respone. she can nearly feel each hair on her neck and arms stand on end. America sucks in a breath. Primal and real unsettling worry rip through her. She can... can't... place that voice. it whispers through her thoughts. It turns her thoughts to an all-consuming need to remember. Her heart beat quickens until it is thundering under her ribs, unrepentantly.

"I won't tell you again, America, drink it." His masculine tone deepens. It becomes an eerie tether to the physical world as she battles her over taxed body. Awake. She is utterly awake but her body is still sleeping. It feels that way. Prickling of deadened limbs from misuse radiate across her skin. Like tiny needles being stabbed into her tense flesh.

"N-Never," she whispers, and the single word costs her a great deal of agony.

A sigh, of annoyance or amusement brushes past her face. It rustles her hair slightly. She feels the gentle pressure as her blond strands move with his warm breath.

"Always so stubborn, _ma moitié,_ but you must know, that I would never hurt you." With aching tenderness, fingertips brush across her face, and stoke her hair as if he is infinitely precious. The touch is revolting and dark in its insidious nature. Her muscles tense, wanting to spring into action, to shove this male away from her and beat him until he is rendered helpless before her.

Horrified conclusions draw themselves before her closed eyes. She doesn't trust this. America does not trust the words that roll from his silver tongue with the ease of France-

But then...

It hits her. Her thoughts slam to a conclusion so quickly, that despite the pain and agony, her eyes snap open. Her dry lips part in a shocked gasp as blood-shot blue orbs clashed with a vivid violet gaze.

"_Canada."_ His name is a blasphemous curse on her cracked lips. She can feel the soft sting as her dried flesh parts further, welling with a drop of crimson blood that her tongue darts out to clear away instinctually. It hurts. She burns.

She stares into his hooded eyes with a sense of shock delving far past her heart and into her very soul. There is something there, in his eyes, that America has never seen before. Or if she has, it has been so long now that she cannot recall it. It is... frightening. She swallows, the bile brimming at the back of her throat, and blinks slowly. She is afraid. _Of Him._

What the hell is going on?

Errantly, her gaze flits about the diming room. Where is she? With the eagerness of a starving person, her eyes feast upon her surroundings, hoping to devour any stray bits of knowledge she can glimmer from the damp stone walls. A deep sense of panic filters through the fear and confusion as America senses that she is not within her boundaries. She has been taken to this place. A place she does not know and the blank moments in her memory of how she came to be here heighten her fears.

She can feel that Canada is still watching her. His violet gaze is deeper, reminiscing of a glowing magenta almost. Tinged with some sort of expression that makes her toes curl with revolution... if she could make them curl, that is. It was like watching a gasoline fire, hypnotizing but she was far too close. There was the very real threat of disaster looming before her.

_'Dangerous',_ her mind whispers as she tingles. Her body reveling in the tiny pinpricks over the oddity that stares her in the face. His hands reach for her. America tries to lurch backward, but her treacherous body won't move. Blue eyes widen further as his face follows his hands. Warm lips, soft and firm, press against her. She manages a single noise as the sting of the split in her lip crack further. His kiss pains her.

He pulls back, after a moment. it allows her to stare at the crimson coating his lip with bewilderment. There is a twisted expression of primal possessiveness that lights his normally kind features. America trembles at the sight. Something is horridly wrong with Canada. Her eyelids slide closed, affording her a moment to contemplate this bizarre situation. He must be... under some influence. Some drug, like she perhaps? Were they both captured? What this some ploy to free them? Canada was an excellent tactician.

The sickly thrumming of fear in her veins causes her stomach to drop. America was a nation large into 'intuition' or the 'gut feeling'. It was spiraling out of control, shrieking at her that this was all wrong. For the first time in six decades, she did not believe she could trust Canada. She grit her teeth against the bitterness that washed over her. Too damn trusting.

She had trusted him. _Fool._

"Wh-what..?" The word is simple. Not complex in the slightest. But, it binds them into a furthered conversation. Or so America believes, until he presses the cool glass against her burning lips.

"Drink." He murmurers and she hears the heady and gut-wrenching notes of lust and desire in his command.

One eyes opens mutinously as her ire ignites that he _dared_ to try and order her around.

"No." America nearly bites out, feeling a vague sense of strength begin to flood her numb limbs. Whatever he has done to her, it is beginning to wear off.

A knowing smirk paints his features, his eyes narrow on her for a moment.

"You want answers first?" He chuckles then. It is low and sinister.

America manages to tilt her chin up defiantly, but she feels her face pale at the effort. Damned drugs.

"Always so impatient," he chides with a hint of amusement. She watches as the darker color in his eyes swirls at her with a look she cannot fully comprehend.

"It is what I love about you." A sense of bitterness tinges his words. Her breath catches in her throat. America cannot control he visible reaction she has to the blurted out sentiment.

She attempts to shake her head. To deny what he has said. His hand fists in her golden locks, pulling her neck back sharply as he leans over her Violet eyes a near sin against the ones she was so used to seeing. It was a desecration of the nation she had spent centuries beside. Hysteria bubbles at her lips, as he snarls at her.

"I. Love. You." He nearly shouts into her face. A manic look of possessive dominance steals over her face. America feels her stomach tighten into knots. Unable to push him away. Unable to stop him.

Helpless. A feeling she is not used to. One she hates with a fiery passion. She is helpless in his arms. Canada, is much stronger than her at the moment.

"Canada," She breathes as the thin film of moisture grows in her eyes. His next kiss is punishing in its intensity, and he refuses to release her. All she can feel is pain and heat.

When he pulls away, her lips are bruised. His face is twisted into something near ecstasy.

"Little dear," he murmurs, burying his face into the crook of her neck as he inhales her scent. America's skin crawls with revulsion. "You make me so angry sometimes."

He whispers it as if it is a deep and wicked confession. America blinks, unable to do more than bend to his will at the moment. She's made dozens furious. Nearly to a rabid frenzy, but they have never kidnapped her. Oh lord. Canada had kidnapped her. The thought and frank horridness of the situation settle over her. The silence wasn't so terrible, until he broke it.

Like he'd broken her trust and respect of him.

His hand tightens in her hair. His lips press kisses at her hairline, and cheek.

"You had to," he mutters, obviously distracted.

Her brow furrows, as she focuses on her arms and legs. _'Work, damn you'._

She does not bother to hid the fact she finds this insane. Crazy! He was mad. Something was terribly wrong with Canada. She swallowed the sense of terror that threatened to engulf her. How had she possibly missed this? How had they all missed this?

"You had to..." he repeats with narrowed orbs of darkened fury. Fury that was directed at her. "You had to let them touch you."

It is a hissed and menacing accusation.

America manages to pull against the hold in her hair, but it causes a sharp wrench in her neck muscles.

"What?" She questions with obvious confusion.

Canada is a wicked presence all around her. He looks more like a hungry animal than the gentle natured nation she had known. Or had that all been a very well-crafted lie?

"Don't. Lie. To. Me." He shouts and it causes a ringing in her ears. America groans in reflex.

She wants to deny what he is accusing her of. Out of the need for self-preservation, but she has no idea what the hell he's talking about.

"I saw you." Canada snarls into her face, causing her breath to come out in short pants to control the mounting panic. The urge to fight him was strong. So very strong. Yet, she could not shake what he had done to her.

Damn him.

"You let Mexico _touch_ you."

Blue eyes hood in deep and frantic thought. Touch her? They had lunch last Thursday, but he'd only briefly brushed her hand to pick up the tab, despite her insistence to pay for them both.

Slowly her gaze meets his again and he is nothing like the man she knows. He is utterly terrifying in his display and it causes her no small amount of discomfort to see the obsession burning in his eyes.

_'Too much. It is too much.'_

Her eyes drop to the layer of dirt covering what appeared to be a concrete floor. She has to play into the delusion. Or was she not supposed to do that? America wracked her brain.

"It's not-" she starts with an unsteady voice.

"I have to punish him now," Canada says with an eerily light voice. His face takes on a wide smile, like a child at Christmas.

Confusion laces her thoughts.

"I have to hurt him for touching you. Do you understand?" He looms before her. Too large to ignore.

America struggles then, in earnest. Her stiff muscles begin to twitch at her command. Her hand raises to snatch her hair from his grasp. Canada gives a grunt of surprise, before shoving her further into the floor.

"No one but me." He states ominously as she glares up at him with fiery and righteous fury.

The sting tells her, that he was not as absent minded as his demeanor indicated. The feeling of a cooler and burning liquid passes through her veins. It burns and she snarls curses at him. Trying to shove him away, but it is in vain. Her hand shakes as she swats the syringe from her skin, causing more pain. Canada however, huffs at the display like one would a child having a tantrum.

"No one but me. Ever again." He says with contentment, having passed his strange dark emotions for a moment.

His hands, warm and rough, snake around her waist. The ghost of them across the plane of her stomach. Reverently he leans down and kisses the sight where he has taken her control away, chemically.

"There, all better." He declares, semi-wolfishly.

"Where am I?" America demands, again. Desperately, this time.

His lips press against the shell of her ear. She can feel the heat of his body pressed against hers. The thrum of excitement that permeates every line of his body is sickening and it pulls at the dawning horror that spreads through her.

"Seebe," Canada informs her. In a tone that borders gloating.

_Seebe._

The word settles like a lead bullet in her chest.

Seebe, Alberta. A former prisoner of war camp. With a population of zero. An uninhabited hamlet. Directly across from the Stony Indian Reservation.

Population of zero.

Zero.

No one to hear her.

No one to see or hear him.

No chance for intervention or spontaneous rescue.

America was... _Captive._

Whatever he has given her, begins to work despite the rush of adrenaline beating through her heart. Hysterically she claws at the chance of consciousness, as her blue eyes claw a path up meet his gaze. Her body feels so heavy. She sees his nearly dreamy smile. It reminds her of the first time he told her his name. The first time he laughed with her in good-natured happiness. Wide-eyed panic sets in as his smile turns to a toothy grin. Reticent of a feral animal.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," He assures her with a steadfastness that leaves little doubt that he means every word. "You're _mine_. No one will ever hurt you."

Her mind rejects his words as she feels strong hands pulling her limp body into his arms.

"I'll never let them take you from me, America." Her neighbor whispers as if it is the most important of romantic decelerations. "I'd kill everyone of them, before I'd let them take you."

Bile rolls into her throat again, but blissfully, her mind cannot comprehend the fight against the drug and his madness. The Star-spangled nation falls into the abyss and sanctity that is unconsciousness. Violet eyes linger on her, as gentle hands trace the curve of her face.

"They'll never have you," Canada vows with an obsessive light to his eyes. "_Never."_


End file.
